There But for the Grace of God
by Caranath
Summary: Frank's past catches up with him, and Joe is determined to help his brother through it.   Follows directly after Cave In.
1. Chapter 1

**A/n:** Because I am only slightly mean and rotten, here is a sneak preview

**There But for the Grace of God**

_**Prologue**_

_Dr Suitland indicated that Frank should make himself comfortable. "Well, Frank, do you know why Joe has asked me to help you?" _

"_Not a clue and no offense, Doctor, but I fail to see what you can say to convince me otherwise."_

"_Joe suggested I ask you a single question first. If you still feel that way after, then you are free to go." _

_Frank shrugged. "Ask."_

"_Who is Mike?" _

_Frank, who had still been standing as he was fully prepared to walk out the door, turned deathly pale and felt his legs buckle beneath him. He sat down heavily and came dangerously close to hyperventilating. In fact he was in shock. Dr Suitland dialed the reception desk and said "Mary, could you bring in a bottle of water for my patient, please? And cancel my next appointment. I have a feeling this one is going to run long." _

_After a long pause, Frank gathered his raw emotions enough to be able to form a coherent sentence. "w..where did you hear that name?" he asked tremulously._

"_Joe heard you say 'Mike is dead and it's all my fault' in the hospital. He said you were completely out of it, didn't know him at all. His exact words were 'he freaked me right the hell out' and he is quite worried about you, Frank." The Doctor came out from behind his desk and sat on the couch next to the obviously distraught young man. "He also said as far as your Father knows that is not a former client either. But the name obviously brings back some pretty bad memories. It might help if you shared them."_

_Frank shook his head vehemently. "I ca..can't tell Joe. Or Dad. They wouldn't understand."_

"_I wasn't suggesting you tell them anything. At least not yet. But what about me? No preconceived notions to judge you by. So you don't have to worry about me not understanding. What I can do is help you make sense of things, and help you work past the guilt. Wanna give it a shot?"_

_Frank pondered his options. He was deathly afraid that his Father, or worse, his brother, would discover his terrible secret and that he would be unable to justify himself to them. He knew that Joe held a grudging admiration for Dr Suitland and credited the Psychologist for helping him through a pretty tough time in his life. Joe trusted this man. The least he could do was trust his brother._

_Taking a very deep shuddering breath, Frank began to speak. "It was a long time ago. I haven't thought about Mike in years." _

_Dr Suitland spent the next 90 minutes taking occasional notes and asking one or two clarifying questions. Mostly, he let Frank ramble. He was amused to note that Frank had a completely different style of recalling his past than his previous patient named Hardy. Much more logical, his thoughts were quite ordered, if a great deal more self condemning than the younger one's had been. _

_At the end of the session, Dr Suitland led the way out into the reception area, where an obviously about to reach the end of his rope Joe was pacing. Joe took one look at his brother's face, blanched, then looked at the Doctor's grave one. Dr. S nodded and said to Frank " I will see you on Thursday, then?"_

_Frank nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. The silence continued as the men made their way to the SUV. He was relieved to note that Joe also made no comment other than to ask if he had any preferences for lunch._

_Joe pulled into the parking lot of the closest Subway and grabbed 2 $5 footlongs, a couple bags of chips and 2 large sodas. He threw them in the backseat, and drove out to Barmet Bay. When Frank looked at him questioningly, Joe shrugged. "The sound of the waves helps."_

_They sat, backs to the large rock formation that had been Joe's refuge when Iola died. Neither man spoke for a long time. Eventually, Joe crumpled up his wrapper, stuffed everything into the bag the subs had come in and lightly placed his hand over his brother's. "When you are ready, I 'll be there."_

**A/n: **This will pick up at the end of Cave in, which has reached the end of it's lifespan. it will be told alternately between Frank's and Joe's perspective. _  
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	2. Chapter 2

**A/n:** _ This is another way short chapter. follow ons will be longer and thus take longer to post. as in maybe just one a week as opposed to my usual one every 3-4 days. just warning you now. _

**Chapter 1**

Frank Hardy was in a very dark place. He had thought he had put his past behind him. He should have known better. He was, after all, a Private Investigator, following in his Father's foot steps. He knew damn well that your past _always_ comes back to bite you in the butt. He had been deluding himself all this time. His only consolation at the moment was the fact that Joe had only a name.. and merely a partial one at that, to go on. He knew his brother was tenacious, but he also knew that there was almost no chance of Joe learning anything as literally no one else knew the whole story. There were millions of Mikes in the world. Not much to go on. He resolved to keep the truth from Joe, and by extension, his father.

That being said, he had to accept the fact that his uncharacteristic reaction at the Psychologist's office indicated that perhaps he wasn't quite as 'over it' as he had thought. For that matter, he admitted to himself that ever since Joe had returned he had felt a stronger than normal urge to keep Joe out of harm's way. Intellectually, he knew it was ludicrous as Joe had come back from his Navy service stronger mentally and physically as well as far more mature than he had ever anticipated.. He had always assumed Joe would go through life just a little bit care free, never really taking it seriously.

Of course, Joe had always accused _him _of being too stuffy and of taking life too seriously. He supposed that was made them such a great team, they complemented each other. Until Joe left. Then he was alone. And lost.

**Flashback**

"_Hey Mom! Where's Joe? I just talked to Chet and the gang is meeting over at his place for a Barbeque tonight!" Frank came into the kitchen and gave his mother a peck on the cheek._

_Laura Hardy paused, one arm elbow deep in suds and the other attacking a stubborn bit of baked on lasagna from last night's dinner. "He's gone, dear" she said gently._

"_Again?" he laughed, exasperated. "He's hardly around at all lately. I cannot imagine what he is up to all the time. Not like he's working on the van, or anything. When will he be back?" _

_Laura had been dreading this moment for weeks, but there was no putting it off any longer. She dried her hands on a cheery kitchen towel draped over her shoulder as she turned to her eldest. "Why don't you sit down, dear. I'll pour you some iced tea" Still, she procrastinated as much as possible by puttering about the refrigerator and taking her time pulling out the tall glasses. She poured 2 glasses and sat down across from Frank. "He's not coming back, dear." she said sadly._

"_What d'ya mean? What did he have a hot date or something?" Frank had not yet noticed her solemn expression or taken note of her tone of voice._

"_No, dear. I mean he won't be back at all. He was picked up this morning and by now he is on a plane to Chicago."_

_Frank was shocked, but it still hadn't sunk in that this was no ordinary conversation. "What's in Chicago? I thought Dad's case had him in Miami? Did he need to follow up on a lead or something? Why didn't he wait for me, we could have gone together." _

"_Boot Camp" Laura said quietly. "That's what is in Chicago. Joe enlisted into the Navy. He left this morning." _

_Frank choked on the iced tea he had the misfortune of being in the middle of swallowing when Laura spoke. "What?" _

_By now Laura had given up any pretext of being strong and allowed the tears to fall freely down her face. Joe was her baby, and while she objectively understood his reasons, she was still heartbroken at his leaving. _

_Frank went from shocked to furious in about 3 tenths of a second. "Why the hell did he do that? That's insane! Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't you stop him?" he accused his mother, ignoring her obvious distress. _

_Laura snapped back at him, her own nerves worn raw. "Joe is 18 and a legal adult. I couldn't have stopped him even if I had wanted to. It was his choice and neither you nor I had any right to prevent it." _

_Frank was in no mood to be rational by now and refused to even consider his mother's words, or the truth of them. As far as he was concerned, Joe had betrayed him. Not just by leaving, but by not discussing this major life change with him first. It was pretty irresponsible of his brother to just take off like that. "Did dad know?" he seethed._

"_No he does not know and you will NOT be calling him. I will tell him, in person, when he returns from Miami later this week. This is the sort of thing that needs to be told in person. I mean it, Franklin Paul Hardy. You are NOT to spring this on your father while he is on a case." Laura seldom invoked her Parental Authority, and had never done so in such a forceful manner. Frank chafed under her ultimatum but being Frank, acquiesced to her demand. The next few days were intolerable. He alternated between being insanely angry at his little brother and being horribly lonely without him. _

_When Fenton returned, and Laura had told him, he too was distraught, but to Frank's surprise, not in the same way he had been. Rather, Fenton blamed himself completely for Joe's aberrant behavior. Frank had heard about the argument his brother and father had had while he was recuperating in the hospital following his run in with Andre the Giant at the chop shop, but he had no idea it had been such a big one. And it didn't help that Fenton refused to discuss it with him. _

_Frank had spent the next couple of weeks aimlessly doing nothing. It wasn't until he received a fat envelope from NYU that he showed any sign of his old self. "Hey, Mom, got my roommate info today. "Name's Mike Donovan. Says here he's an athlete on scholarship." _

"_That's nice dear, is there an email address so that you can contact him ahead of time, maybe coordinate some of your dorm stuff like TV and fridge?"_

"_Great idea Mom" although this was said with little to no enthusiasm. In fact, Frank had been seriously considering not going at all, and said as much. Laura had done nothing other than frown but Frank had been ambushed at the dinner table by a united front of Parental Authority. Getting double teamed was usually Joe's misfortune, not his. _

**Present Day**

"Well Frank" asked Dr Suitland at their second session "Why didn't you feel like going to NYU, and why do you think your parent's pushed the issue?"

"Dad said that it would be good for me to get out, start living my life without having Joe attached to my hip. That I needed to start being my own person. But I just missed him so much, It was hard to imagine any sort of life without him."

"Okay, then explain this to me. You were going to be living in the dorms, and only coming home occasionally, right? So you weren't going to be seeing Joe all the time anyway. With him gone, was there any real reason to stay at home and mope about it?"

Frank's face flushed a little at that perceptive comment. "Well when ya put it that way..." he chuckled in embarrassment. "That's about what Dad had said too. So I gave in since it was just easier than trying to push the issue. And once I got there, it was easier to not come home. Joe wasn't there, so what was the point?"

"Didn't your parents want you to come see them? What about your friends who stayed local? Or during their breaks from school?"

"I tried, once or twice. But it was too hard. Mom was moping, Dad was still blaming himself. Couldn't take all the angst. Joe was the one who could cheer us all up with his antics. Without him around, it wasn't home any more. Besides, there was Mike." Frank said this last in an undertone.

Dr Suitland took a moment to process the information and the tone in which it was delivered. Whoever Mike was, he had certainly made an indelible impression on Frank Hardy. He had never been one for making conclusions, but he strongly suspected the relationship between Mike and Frank was not that of your typical College roomie...

__**A/n: **_ whatever you are thinking, you are probably wrong . But I'd love to hear everyone's theories anyway. I may or may not confirm or deny. But yes, Joe is the glue that holds the family together and without him around Frank gets himself into his own brand of trouble. _


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n:** _Special thanks to Bhar who has graciously allowed me to bounce a few ideas off of them. This is more Joe centric._

**Chapter 2**

Joe Hardy came bouncing into the office of Hardy and Sons in downtown Bayport and was only slightly surprised to find he wasn't the last one there. Despite his morning commute being a grand whopping 3 minutes( and then only if he stopped to run the garbage out on his way) he still usually managed to be the last one to arrive. He sometimes took severe advantage of the fact that he lived upstairs and never rolled out of bed until the last possible second. More than once he came to work with his hair still wet from the shower. And once or twice, _sans _shoes. Nearly always, though, Frank beat him to the office; and the only time Sam or Fenton didn't was if they were in the field.

Today, he nearly ran into Sam who was on his way out the door, probably to do some pavement pounding. They exchanged pleasantries as they performed a dance of avoidance in the doorway. He had barely gotten all the way in to the large open area that served as reception area and lounge when his father poked his head out of his office to the side and asked Joe to come in right away. Joe took that to mean after he had gotten coffee. Fresh cup in hand, he rapped once on Fenton's door as he opened it.

Fenton was behind his desk looking like he hadn't slept at all. This by itself was not unusual, but there was something in his eyes that made Joe suspect all was not well in the universe. "What's up, Dad?" he asked.

"Have a seat, Son" Fenton wearily said. Joe complied, but forwent his usual relaxed posture. He sat more or less upright, back straight, attentive and slightly forward. His father rubbed his eyes, further hammering home his tiredness. "I debated whether or not to show you this, Joe." he began, choosing his words carefully. "After you left last night I went over the information you had gathered. Then I made some phone calls and called in a few favors."

"Did you find out anything else?"

"I have the complete police report, as well as the coroner's report. I also have some witness statements that never made it into the press or the official report."

Joe leaned even further forward, eagerly. "What! Let me see!" he reached towards the pile of documents on the desk. Fenton stopped him, though. "Dad! C'mon! No teasing me!"

"This is no teasing matter, Joesph. But I want to know.. did you mean what you said last night? About waiting for Frank to tell you himself, regardless of what you know?" Fenton's intent gaze bored into Joe.

Joe contemplated the ramifications of that question. Not something his father would ever have asked lightly, he was sure. "Yeah, I meant it. Unless I think he needs to know, like for his recovery. Dr S was always going on about sharing the pain slash burden. Used to get so frustrated when I wouldn't let you guys know how pissed I was at the whole thing." Joe was referring to the long recovery he had had last year after being shot in a random act of violence.

Fenton regarded his youngest for a moment. "Joe, I don't think that would help.. at all. I think that if you told him how much you know it would send him off the deep end. I truly think his recovery depends on him believing you are completely in the dark."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Joe exclaimed.

"I have always known you two were close, closer than most siblings. Even closer than twins, despite your polar opposite personalities. And I know my role in that." Fenton raised a placating hand as Joe protested, just like he had done during a prior conversation about this very subject. "I have stopped beating myself up over that, don't worry. But take a good hard look at this report, Joe. Objectively. As a PI. Tell me what you notice." and Fenton handed over the pile with no small amount of trepidation. He still wasn't convinced this was a good idea.

The file was not especially thick, even with the added information that his father had obtained the night before via fax. On top was a full color photograph of the late Mike Donovan. Joe's breath caught in his throat as he saw, for the first time, what Mike had looked like. The grainy newspaper Obituary picture was in black and white and had been the only picture he had found in his search. He raised his head and looked at his father in shock. Fenton nodded grimly, satisfied that Joe had indeed seen the uncanny resemblance.

"My god. It's like looking in the damn mirror!" Joe gasped. Mike Donovan was the spitting image of the youngest Hardy Boy. Blond hair, slightly wavy. Quirky grin. Piercing blue eyes, although not quite the same intensity as his own. "Hell he even has the same Jersey number!" The picture was of Mike in his High school football uniform, and while the mascot and colors were different than his own Bayport Knights, the number 13 was not.

"Exactly. Now do you understand why I want you to tread lightly here? I am no Psychologist but I am well aware of the depth of Frank's emotional ties to you. Can you imagine what was going through his mind the first time he saw Mike? Especially after you had left?"

Joe paled. "Are you saying that **I** did this to Frank?"

"No" Fenton said sharply. "What I am saying is maybe things would have played out differently if the circumstances were different. But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that Frank gets the help he needs to get past this, and that the two of you come to some sort of understanding about the decisions that led each of you to this moment. Yes, I will admit that I was upset that you ran off and enlisted without so much as a By Your Leave, and that it was mostly my doing that you did so." Fenton came around the desk, hitching one butt cheek onto the edge. "But I also see that it was the best decision you could have made at the time and it has done you a world of good. NEVER feel guilty about that. What happened to Frank at NYU was his doing, not yours. HIS decisions and actions are not now and never have been your responsibility." Fenton desperately tried to steer Joe's thinking away from any self doubt or guilt. "That being said, you do owe Frank an explanation, and maybe an apology. I can certainly see what led you to leave without saying anything to me.. we were both too angry to think straight. But Frank deserved better from you."

"But you said I was holding him back, that I was bad for him!" Joe cried, anguish evident in his voice.

Fenton sighed. "Yes, I did, and I meant it. But that didn't mean you should have completely cut off all ties. My god, Joe! Don't you have any idea what you mean to him? And what your leaving did to him? I think he loves you more than he will ever love anyone else in his life and that includes whoever he ends up marrying. Assuming he can find anyone willing to play second fiddle to you and the job, that is." Fenton gave a ghost of a smile. "Look. What I am trying to say is that the choice he made to act as he did is not your fault. But the fact remains that you hurt him by _your _actions. I know that was not your intent. And I also know that I had a lot to do with how you handled things, and for that I am truly sorry. It was never my intention to separate you two so completely. I just wanted each of you to get some perspective and objectivity. It wasn't healthy for either of you to be so co dependent on each other."

"Just like me to go overreact and screw everything up." Joe's voice was bitter with self loathing.

"No!" Fenton came off the desk and knelt in front of his distraught child. "Oh, son don't ever think that this is your doing. It's not. If anything I am at fault for not making my reasons clearer to you."

Joe gazed at his father with eyes bright with unshed tears. "So what do I do?" he asked softly.

"You do what you said you were going to do.. and that is nothing. I know you are upset at this new information, and you think you have to rush in and fix things, but you can't. Not this time. Frank has to fix himself. And if that means he keeps a secret from us, then we need to respect that." Fenton spoke gently, if a little sadly.

"What would you have said to me if we didn't know the whole truth?" Joe asked, already knowing the answer.

"Same thing. And yes I would have tried to talk you out of sneaking around behind his back. In fact I would have done so if you had come to me before starting your research. The only reason I called in a few markers is because I know you would never have let this go. Can you keep this to yourself, Joe?" there was real concern in Fenton's voice as he asked the question.

Joe was facing a very real dilemma here. On one hand he was bound and determined to help Frank through this. And on the other, he was well aware of his own feelings of resentment and frustration when the situation had been reversed last year. "I'm honestly not sure, Dad." he admitted.

"Well maybe I can help with that. Get you out of town for a few days. Agent Reeves called early this morning." Fenton was referring to the local FBI agent who had been assigned to the Danny Frisk Kidnapping. "Seems your hunch was correct.. there have been other kidnappings with similar reports by the victim of isolation but comfort; with corresponding bland ransom notes. His boss wants you to go to DC and go through all the dockets. Thinks you may be able to find other patterns. What do you say?"

Joe took a deep breath. It _was _tempting. He felt an unusual need to see this through to the very end, for Danny's sake. But dammit, this was his brother they were talking about. Could he really abandon him.._again_? Especially after what he had just learned?

Joe was saved from answering by the arrival of Frank. He could be heard through the closed office door calling out "Anybody here?" Joe stood up, handed the file back to his father, took a deep breath, and went to the door. He pulled it open just as Frank had raised his hand to knock. Frank laughed, but it was a hollow sound. He had obviously not slept well, if at all, the night before. "Sorry I am late. Overslept. What'd I miss?"

"We were just discussing whether or not Joe should take a field trip to DC." Fenton smoothly filled in the silence from the blond sibling that was threatening to become awkward. Frank was startled. "Why DC?"

"Uh to follow up on some more leads from the Frisk kidnapping. Guess there have been others with the same MO, and they want me to take a look at the files; see if I can make any connections." Joe hastened to reply before he blurted something highly inappropriate out instead.

"Oh." Frank was noncommittal, so Joe couldn't tell if Frank was upset, relieved, angry or what.

"I don't have to go, I can have them send everything here." Joe offered, putting the ball in Frank's court.

Frank, for his part was experiencing a strange combination of dread and relief. He still was adamant that Joe never learn the whole truth, and having him out of town working on another case would hopefully distract him long enough so that he would forget about Mike Donovan altogether. At the same time he really didn't want to be alone, and he knew that sooner or later he'd have to tell somebody other than Doctor Suitland the whole sordid tale. He had decided that someone would be his Father. "No, I think you should go. Be easier to talk to other people involved if you were there. Not like you do any work around here anyway." he teased in an effort to minimize any possible hurt feelings.

Joe, for his part, saw right through that and opted to play along. "Oh and like you are good for anything besides drinking all the coffee!" He harrumphed, wound his way around the elder sibling and snagged himself another cup, emptying the pot. "Oops, sorry, guess you'll have to make another pot!"

"I always thought the rule was 'whoever empties it makes it'" Fenton commented in a sly tone.

"Only Underway, Dad. Shore duty never counted." Joe grinned, but proceeded to dump the used grounds anyway and fill the basket with fresh ones.

"Got any cinnamon and nutmeg? That was really good the other day" Frank almost begged. Joe reached under the cabinet that the pot was sitting on and with a flourish produced two small spice containers. Soon the coffee was brewing, sending the warm spicy scent into the office.

Fenton returned to his office with a fresh cuppa, and Frank followed Joe into the one they shared on the opposite side of the reception area. Each sat down at desks that thoroughly represented each one, Joe's being an untidy jumble of reports and empty candy bar wrappers; while Franks was neat and ordered with nothing extraneous at all. For a while neither man spoke, each busy with their own tasks and thoughts. But of course, Joe couldn't keep quiet for too long. " Are you sure you're okay with me taking off? I mean, what about your sessions with Dr S?"

"I know the way, and there's no reason for you to waste an hour two or three times a week waiting around for me. Besides, it's not like you will be in DC forever, right?"

"Well yeah, but what if, you know, you need to uhh.. talk and stuff?"

"Not there yet, Joe. I'm sorry. Maybe later. But right now I can't share. Please respect that." Frank didn't add what he was really wanting to say.. that as long as he could help it, Joe would _never _find out what really happened. He had only just gotten his brother back. He would be damned if he'd ever let Joe know he had been replaced mere weeks after he left. The guilt was unbearable as it was, but to hurt Joe like that would kill him. He'd rather die himself than hurt his Baby Brother emotionally.

**A/n: **_the two of them I swear. each trying soooo damn hard to avoid hurting the other one. _ _Stubborn, Thy Name is Hardy. as for the Kidnapping angle, that's gonna be the B plot this story. if you are all really lucky, and the plot bunnies don't eat my brain I will do a separate one dealing with that after this one is done, but since I do not see an end any time soon( we are talking major angsty bits people) you may have to bear with me. If this doesn't end until say Mid March, I will not be able to devote any time after that for a few weeks. Sorry guys, Love ya, but I love my husband more. been a loooong 2 years apart. _


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n: **_ At long last! like I said the Frank parts are taking a lot out of me. as is doggy sitting. who knew such a small creature could have so much energy? I have been playing Fetch non stop for the last week. _

**Chapter 3**

Frank was relieved when Joe accepted his explanation without comment or further interrogation. The rest of the morning was spent doing minor niggly things that are annoying but necessary for the smooth running of any office. Joe had finally gotten a hold of his date and made plans to take her out that evening as he was leaving in the morning for DC. He then spent several hours playing phone tag with Agent Reeves before heading out for an afternoon meeting with Frisk Senior to take some more notes on Joe's theory about the business deal being the reason behind the kidnapping. At that point their office became far too quiet and Frank found himself unable to actually concentrate. Apparently Joe provided white noise to such a degree that he required it to focus. Great. He gave it up as a lost cause and went out into the reception area to make another pot of coffee. While not nearly as addicted as Joe or his father, he could still kill a pot all by himself. However, in the interest of hopefully getting a full night's sleep, he switched to the decaf that was buried in a dark recess of the cupboard. It had been there since the holidays, one of those generic gift sets that grateful clients tended to bestow upon the office that always had one or two unpalatable offerings. Like decaf.

Fenton heard the noise and came out. "We really need a receptionist to run interference. Every time I hear a noise out here I can never tell if it is a client or just Joe raiding the fridge again." Fenton was treading carefully, playing things casual. He, too was wary about his newfound knowledge of his Eldest son's past and Frank's obvious reluctance to share any details on his own.

"Maybe." Frank was hesitant. He clearly wanted to say something to his father but was unsure of how to approach the subject. He needed to apologize for attacking his father at the mine shaft, but since he honestly didn't remember actually doing so, it was hard to muster up the right words to say. "Can I uhh, talk to you for a sec?" he asked, tentatively.

"Always, Son, you know that." Fenton gestured into his office, letting Frank precede him. Shutting the door, he opted to not sit behind his desk, but rather in the second chair facing Frank.

Peering closely at his father, he noticed for the first time the fading shiner on his right eye. "Is that a black eye?" he gasped, appalled.

"Yep. Joe's right. You have a mean right hook." Fenton acknowledged the injury without bleeding any inherent emotion into his tone. He was not going to let Frank trip over himself apologizing for a month, but neither was he going to pretend that it never happened or that he need not apologize.

Upon hearing that, Frank groaned and stuck his head in his hands. "I don't remember a damn thing about that night. What else did I do?" he wailed, half afraid to know.

"You were pretty out of it. Absolutely unwilling to listen to anything or anyone. So fixated on getting Joe out you lost control. Started making outrageous demands of Phillips and generally made an ass of yourself." Fenton's tone was neutral. "When you took a swing at me, I took matters into my own hands. Since shooting you was a bit of an overreaction, I opted to use the other end of my gun to subdue you." still neutral, not even a tinge of regret or apology. Fenton did not even offer a show of tacit support or sympathy, but nether was his posture overtly hostile. He was going to be as neutral as possible.

Frank was clearly distraught, and while this caused an upswell of pity for his son, Fenton remained

stoic. He'd express his anguish in the privacy of Laura's arms in the middle of the night. Frank had never responded well to wearing one's emotions on one's sleeve, a fact that made his recent aberrant behavior all the more worrisome.

Eventually, Frank composed himself enough to look his father in the eye. "Somehow 'sorry' seems inadequate."

"Then how about explaining it?" still calm, neutral.

"N..not sure I can, or that I would even if I could. At least not yet. And maybe not ever."

Fenton allowed his eyes to soften just a little bit. "Frank, there is nothing that you could ever say or do that would change how I feel about you. Or your brother, for that matter."

Frank paled even more. "NO!" he half shouted. "Joe can NEVER know the truth. _**Ever**_ ." he took a long shuddering breath and tried to compose himself. "I concede that I owe you, at least, something, and I am trying to psych myself up for that conversation from Hell. But so help me Dad unless I get your solemn vow to never repeat a word to Joe, not even you will ever know." There was a desperation in Frank's eyes that shocked Fenton.

"Frank surely you can't be serious. Your brother will forgive anything of you. As will I."

"What happened was unforgivable" Frank whispered in a voice so low Fenton was not convinced he heard it correctly. But before he could say anything, Frank abruptly stood up and said "I need to go, clear my head. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. I have a session in the morning." and he was gone. Fenton stood open mouthed, caught completely off guard.

Frank spent another night tossing and turning. (So Much for Decaf) he thought to himself several times after yet one more vain attempt to turn his brain off and get some sleep. He showed up to Doctor Suitland's office a few minutes early, looking like Death Warmed Over. He was soon ushered into the Psychologist's office, who commented on Frank's obvious lack of sleep.

"I can't write you a prescription for a sleeping aid, but I can ask your regular doctor to do so" he offered as he indicated with a hand that Frank should make himself comfortable. Frank demurred, saying it wasn't necessary. Frank had always been leery of taking even OTC meds and seldom took anything stronger than aspirin.

Dr. Suitland began the session by asking Frank how he had met Mike.

"It was the day I moved into the Dorms" Frank began...

**Flashback**

_He had refused his parents' offer to drive over to NYU with him and help him move. He didn't have much, really. His laptop, 2 suitcases full of clothes and a couple of boxes of other stuff. It all fit easily into his car and he figured it would only take 2, maybe three trips to transport everything to his dorm room. He also still slightly resented their insistence that he follow through on his plan to attend college away from home, despite his equally resentful attitude of his home life, which was empty and bleak without Joe there. It was a short drive, only a few hours. The weather was sunny and for once the humidity level was at civilized levels. He soon arrived at the main campus in Greenwich Village and before long had everything from keys to student guide. He only got lost once on the way to the building that was to be his home for the next four years. The parking lot was full of overstuffed cars and even a few Uhaul trailers and milling with people going to and fro in a sort of unsynchronized dance. Since his room was on the second floor, he had decided to not even bother fighting for elevator space. He wound his way through the busy hallway, returning each friendly greeting as it came with a smile of his own. He noted that his room was in a prime location, equidistant from the communal showers and the student lounge/kitchen. He was surprised to notice only 2 beds in the room. He had assumed at minimum 3, maybe 4. He figured only Juniors and Seniors got the 2 man rooms. With a shrug, he set his suitcases down on one of the beds and spent the next 45 minutes or so schlepping his worldly possessions up from the car. It was late afternoon and there was still no sign of the elusive Mike Donovan, his roommate. He had accepted the invitation of the 2 guys in the next room over to take a wander around and find something edible. As Jerry, a Junior, put it, 'once the cafeteria starts serving, edible is an unheard of concept.' _

_The rest of the afternoon and early evening passed pleasantly, and despite himself, Frank had begun to relax and show some signs of his normal easy going manner. Jerry and his roommate Buck were funny and engaging and were only too happy to give Frank a few pointers on the ins and outs of campus life, including who and what to avoid as well as can't misses on everything from late night dining to the campus undesirables. Especially Professor Graves, who was universally loathed by student and Faculty alike. He excused himself from joining them in their plans to hit a bar or two for one last drink before having to hit the books the next day, stating his 21st birthday wasn't for a few months yet and he was willing to wait. Buck and Jerry said their goodnights and went on their way, and Frank had returned to the dorm. By now there were only one or two frantic parents grumpily playing pack mule and the parking lot was much calmer. He ran up the stairs and was soon in his room. This time he noted the other bed was now covered with stuff, but the room itself was empty. Shrugging, he figured his new roomie was either still moving in, or was out grabbing a bite. He decided to shower and then he'd settle down to start going over the map and his schedule and try and figure out transit times between classes. He has engrossed in this task when the door clicked open about 8 pm._

"_Well, you must be Frank. Hi! I'm Mike!. Nice ta meetya." _

_Frank had looked up and for a split second that lasted until the second or third word out of Mike's mouth, he could have sworn that Joe was in the room and the whole 'joining the Navy' bit had all been some weird practical joke. Mike Donovan could have been Joe's identical twin. _

_Frank stood up and stammered " Uhh, Hi. Sorry, was uhh, caught up in stuff. Truing to get a jump on tomorrow." _

_Mike laughed and said "Yeah I know the feeling. Actually I have been over at the Summer dorm for the last few weeks. Closer to the football field. _(omygawdheplaysfootballtoo!)_ One good thing about it is I already have the best routes figured out. Found a few shortcuts, too." _

_Frank was uncharacteristically flummoxed for the rest of the evening. Every little thing that Mike said or did reminded him of his brother. The easy way he laughed, or lounged on the bed. The careless swipe of his hand through wavy blond hair . The friendly, open grin that held a touch of mischief. The obvious lack of any neatness gene. It all broke his heart anew. At one point he had been staring at Mike so strangely that Mike broke off whatever he had been saying and asked "Dude, is there something wrong? Do I got spinach in my teeth or sumthin?" the friendly attitude had faded, and Mike was hovering between suspicion and wariness. He was beginning to think he got stuck with a dud for a roomie. _

_Frank flushed in embarrassment. "Sorry. It's just that you remind me an awful lot of somebody. You even look almost exactly like him." _

_The grin was back, although not quite as wide as before. "That good or bad?" _

"_Joe's my brother. It's uncanny how much you resemble him. Looks, manner, everything. Just wasn't expecting that." _

"_Ahh Siblings. Younger or older?"_

"_He's a year or so younger."_

"_Any others?"_

_Frank shook his head no._

"_I got 5 sisters. Want one? I am the middle child. You have no idea how stressful that is!" and Mike was back to being his affable self, having missed the pensive longing in Frank's voice. He dug through the box of assorted stuff he had shoved under his bed rather than unpack it earlier and produced an 8 x 10 family portrait. It was one of those cheesy Christmas poses you get at any major department store with the fake cheerful fireplace and everyone was in matching holiday sweaters. Mike's sisters all had varying shades of blond hair, as did both his parents. They looked like your typical large happy family. In return, Frank dug his family portrait out. While it too was an 8 x 10 it was definitely not a cheesy holiday setting. Frank had to suppress a grin at the mental image of Aunt Gertrude in an antler headband. When Mike took a look, he whistled. "Dayum, dude. Yer right. Can't wait to meet him. Might be cool to compare side by side, ya know? Yer from not too far away, right? Figured you'd be going home on long weekends and stuff. Man I wish I had a brother. That would be so kewl! " Mike rambled on, oblivious to Frank's sudden tightening of the lips and the hooded look that came over his eyes. _

"_I...I don't think I will go back all that often. Joe's not there anymore. Nothin' else to go back to."_

_Mike glanced at him in sympathy. "He at a different school, then?" _

_Again, Frank shook his head no. "He enlisted a few weeks ago." The bitterness was barely contained. _

_Mike, however, was pleased. "That's way awesome! I thought about it, My dad was in the Marines, but when this football scholarship landed in my lap I decided I could wait. I figure I can get my edumacation, then enlist afterward. I'm good on the field, just not Pro good. The Military will still be there when I am done." _

_The next several weeks passed by in a blur. Frank was busy trying to immerse himself in the true Frosh Experience in order to stop mooning over his brother. This task was made harder by Mike and his constant reminder that he was not Joe, despite all the similarities. Frank dutifully called home every week and went back for both Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks, but after that he couldn't bear it any more. Joe's room had long since been turned into his mother's sewing room. Frank no longer had even that refuge to escape to when he needed a physical reminder that his brother existed. By the time he returned back to campus after the first of the year, he had made the decision that he wouldn't go back again. Joe wasn't there. He had nothing to go home to. Joe had also cut off all ties, not even inviting the family to his Graduation from Boot Camp. Their mother occasionally got a post card but nothing substantial. He threw himself into his studies and made an effort to be friendlier to his roommate. Wasn't Mike's fault he reminded him of Joe. But still every day something else Mike said or did reminded him of Joe. Chemistry as also one of Mike's Achilles Heels and he needed to maintain a C average to stay on the team and keep his scholarship. So Frank offered to tutor him. He rationalized it to himself, saying that he'd do the same for anyone who was struggling. And it was convenient to just meet him in the room at a certain time rather than fight for a table in the library._

_As the weeks passed, Frank stopped pining over Joe. He had plenty of new friends, in the dorms as well as fellow Criminalistics Majors. Everything he had been missing about his brother was right in front of him in Mike. Mike was funny, charming, a flirt, quick to help and all around a really nice guy. Mike got the brother he was missing out on having 5 sisters, and Frank.. well Frank got a brother back. _

**Present Day**

Dr Suitland raised an eyebrow. "Back?" he commented, a little surprised. Based on his months of therapy with Joe, he was already aware that the two were very close. So close in fact that it took him aback to hear Frank talking as if Mike was his brother in all ways but blood.

Frank shrugged. "Joe left me." but there was shame in his eyes as he said it. "It was the hardest thing I had ever been through. Every time he'd been kidnapped I knew it was not by his choice he was gone, you know? That he would have rather been home, with me. But not this time. This time it **was** his choice. And he did it without even telling me. He **always** came to me when he had an important decision to make. And alluvasudden, that wasn't the case any more. It was like I was no longer important to him. That hurt. A lot." Frank's voice cracked as he finally admitted what he had been carrying in his heart all this time.

"Frank, Joe told me his reasonings. Of course I cannot tell you about them myself, due to doctor/patient confidentiality. But I think you need to ask him, point blank. Once you do you should be able to let go of the anger."

Frank was shocked. "I'm NOT angry!" his heated retort gave lie to the words.

Dr. Suiltand merely raised an eyebrow. "Once you stopped feeling sorry for yourself, you got mad. Mad at Joe for leaving. Mad at your parents for letting him. Mad at yourself for being so hurt and upset about it. And right along side that anger is shame. Shame that you allowed yourself to get mad in the first place. Shame that you allowed Mike to replace the one person you love more than anything else. Shame that you feel you either caused or could not prevent what happened to Mike. But that is a discussion for another time. Will you let me be the one to decide whether or not you are culpable in that?"

Frank was still a long time before finally sighing and nodding.

"Good. Then I shall see you next time. But first, you have homework." Dr Suitland smiled.

Frank gave a wry grin. "Talk to Joe, right? Ask him why he left?"

"Joe always said you were the smart one. I just have one condition. Let him tell the story in his own way and do not discount or try to invalidate his reasoning. At the time it was the only solution he could see. Try and see it from his point of view." Dr. Suitland stood and offered Frank his hand.

"Thanks, Doctor. I guess I have some thinking to do, huh?" Frank said as he made his way out of the office.

As soon as he got home, he left a voice mail for Joe asking him to call when he could but making sure to mention that there was no emergency. Then he went for a 10 mile run before mooching dinner off of his mother, who fussed over him happily. He spent the evening watching the game on TV with his father before taking his leave. As he waked out the door, he stopped and asked his father "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me about what happened between you and Joe and why he left?"

Fenton smiled apologetically. "Sorry. That's up to him. Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Funny. That's what everyone is telling me. Maybe I should start listening, huh?" Franks smile was sad and a little fearful. He leaned in and gave his father a quick hug. "Sorry I decked you. I was an idiot." he whispered in his father's ear.

"Yes, you were." Fenton's voice was grave, but his eyes had softened to a warm brown as he returned the hug. "Now go get some sleep. You have work to do in the morning."

And sleep Frank did.

**A/n: **_ next Joe tells Frank allll about the argument. More Flashback!_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/n:** _Yay! I finally got off my butt and did some work. Go Me! I blame the puppy. She wore me right out. taking a break for the weekend mostly. have some non writing projects to work on that must be done by the 17th. But I won't take too long of one and I should have another chapter up long before then._

**Chapter Four**

Joe's cell phone buzzed at him as soon as he had turned it back on after having had to temporarily turn it off during his day long meeting at the FBI building. He listened to the short voicemail from his brother asking him to call. Since Frank didn't sound anxious, nervous or otherwise upset, and he specifically stated it was not an emergency, he opted to call from his hotel room later that evening. It was still daylight, so he decided to take the subway to the Navy Memorial and spent a couple of hours at the small museum located underneath the statue of the Lone Sailor. He even took the time to register himself in their data base before asking one of the docents their opinion on a decent restaurant within walking distance. After being given directions to Zola, located adjacent to the Spy Museum just a few blocks up the street, he was on his way.

Zola proved to be a slightly upscale and hip joint with what he would term frou frou food. But he had to admit it was tasty, even if the sliders were made of pork belly instead of good ole dead cow flesh. After dinner he wandered next door and spent some time browsing the Spy Museum's gift shop and picked up a few gag gifts for his father and brother. The subway trip back was an adventure as the last of the evening commuters clashed with the first of the Nightlife crowd for space. But soon enough, Joe was relaxing on his king size bed at the hotel. He kicked off his shoes, loosened his tie and tossed it over the back of the chair , where his suit jacket had already been thrown. He dialed his brother's number. "You rang?" he intoned in his best Lurch Voice.

Frank's voice on the other end was tinny and there was a little bit of interference. "Hey. You almost done? When are you due to come back?"

Joe replied "ehh, my flight leaves at like 3 I think. Should be back at or around dinner. Why, wassup?"

"Did you park at the airport?"

"Nope. Cabbed it. To cheap to pay for parking. Why? You offering to pick me up?"

There was a small pause, that lasted long enough that Joe was beginning to think they had been disconnected. "Bro? You still there?"

"Yeah. Umm would you mind if I did meet you? I need to ask you something."

"So ask now."

"Can't. This is something we need to talk about in person."

Joe sat up from his previously reclined position on the bed. "Frank? What's wrong? You okay?" Joe's voice took on an edge of concern.

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay. Just need to ask you something sort of important and I don't want to do it over the phone. It's sort of..too important to do this way."

Joe pondered that, trying really hard to not jump to the worst possible conclusions. Old habits die hard though, and he let the worry in his voice show as he replied. "Hang on, lemme get the Flight Info." he rummaged around in his briefcase for several minutes before digging out the itinerary he had printed off the computer the other day. He rattled off the airline, flight number and ETA before asking "Sure you want to wait? I have no plans until tomorrow at 8. Got one last meeting before I take off."

Frank responded "No, really it can wait. We'll have dinner somewhere. My treat."

"Free food? You're on!" Joe laughed. Frank responded with a low chuckle of his own before signing off.

The next day passed swiftly and uneventfully although Joe left DC with a staggering amount of information and leads. He had been shocked to discover that there were at least 3 other kidnappings in the last year with the same unusual facets. And those were just the ones that the authorities had been notified over. Who knew how many had gone unreported.

His flight home was also unremarkable and he dozed through most of it once they took off. Once he landed it was a quick trip down to baggage claim to snag his garment bag off the carousel. He had just pushed his way through grumpy passengers vying for the sweet spot at the end of the belt where the luggage fell first and had successfully wrangled his piece to safety when he heard his name being called. He looked around and spotted his brother over by the glass double doors that led out into the afternoon sun. Frank walked up to him and grabbed the garment bag, letting Joe precede him through the doors and across the covered drop off area over to the garage. They chatted casually about the information Joe had dug up but Joe said he wanted to wait until their father was in the room to really get into it. Frank asked him where he wanted to go for dinner but Joe said since Frank was paying he knew his limits so told him to pick wherever he wanted. Frank chose a small cafe on the outskirts of the City on the way back into Bayport. The place was cozy, and quiet without being romantic or too stuffy. Perfect place to have a serious conversation. They each ordered drinks and decided to split an order of artichoke cheese dip with pita chips. Frank had the day's salmon special, and Joe took the advice of their server and ordered the prime rib, extra horseradish. Desert was chocolate fudge cake a la mode for Joe, while Frank opted for the berry cobbler, skipping the ice cream.

Joe was patient. Really. Never brought up the phone call during the appetizer course. He was halfway through his (succulent) prime rib before he oh so casually commented "So, what was so important that you had to ask in person, but not so important that it could wait a day?"

Frank took a long swig of his imported Ale before responding. He sighed, and Joe could have sworn he saw his brother mentally gear himself up to speak. "Why did you leave?"

"uhh, to get leads on the Frisk kidnapping." Huh. Frank must have short term memory loss or sumthin. "You were the one that said I should go."

Frank shook his head and took another _very _long pull of his beer. "No. Why did you leave and join the Navy? The **real ** reason." Frank was solemn, and Joe though the saw a twinge of pain in his brother's liquid brown eyes.

Ah. So it has come to this. Finally. Joe smiled softly, a bit of his own pain showing. He caught the attention of their server and requested another beer for Frank and a second JD and Coke for himself. "Make mine a double. He's driving" Joe jerked a thumb at Frank. Frank just raised an eyebrow and changed his beer to just plain Coke.

"What did Dad tell you?" Joe asked quietly.

"To talk to you about it." Frank responded. "So here I am. Talking to you."

"So the public venue is to keep which one of us calm cool and collected?" the grin was wry.

"Not sure" Frank admitted. Joe laughed once, sharply, causing the other patrons to momentarily look in their direction before resuming their eating. Joe took his own very long swig of his beverage before leaning in towards his brother.

"Dad put you up to this, right? He's been after me to tell you." Joe's tone was not accusatory, merely resigned.

"No. Doctor Suitland, actually. Says I am angry and need to let it go. And that I can't until I know the real reason you abandoned me." There. He said it. The words were out. All the pain he had been suppressing all these years was in every syllable, along with the shame of his secret. Doubled, now, as he still had absolutely no intention of ever reciprocating any confession to his younger sibling. Here he was, guilting Joe into spilling his guts when he knew damn well he'd never return the favor.

"Is that what you think, Frank? That I abandoned you?" Joe's voice was soft with regret.

"Well, what was I supposed to think? You took off without a word. Had to hear it over iced tea from Mom.. who, by the way, was devastated. You used to tell me everything, and alluvasudden you were avoiding me like the Plague and then * poof * you were gone. And when Dad got back from Miami and he found out he was beside himself too. One minute he was furious with you and the next he was blaming himself for driving you to do it." Frank 's voice rose a little, getting strident as he finally allowed himself to show the anger, hurt and betrayal he felt. He suppressed the inevitable shame that followed when he was anything other than a loving, supportive Big Brother. It was cathartic, which surprised him a little considering nothing had actually been resolved as yet.

Joe ran a finger around the rim of his Hiball glass as he gathered his thoughts. He finally raised deep sapphire blue eyes and gazed into anguished chocolate brown ones. "I thought I was doing you a favor, Frank"

"How in hell could you think that you were in any way shape or form doing me a _favor_?" Frank choked on his drink.

"Do you remember what happened at the chop shop? How you jumped in to finish what I stupidly started by blundering in there without taking the 15 seconds to look before I leapt? How when it was over you were in the hospital and I had a few minor bruises? When Dad came to see you and take me home, he was livid. Furious. Pissed as hell. He never let it show 'til we were in the car. And then he let me have it..."

**Flashback**

_The drive back from the hospital in the dead of night was taken in absolute silence. Joe could feel the anger radiating off his father in waves. Joe didn't see what the fuss was about. Sheesh, Frank wasn't even hurt that badly. He'd be released in the morning, they just wanted to observe him overnight because of the concussion. And it wasn't like either if them had ever had broken ribs before. So what was the big deal anyway?_

_Fenton continued driving without so much as a throat clearing or glancing in his youngest son's direction. Joe began to fidget a little in his seat as the weight of the silence bore down upon him. He breathed a sigh of relief as their house loomed into view. It was dark, Laura having long since gone to bed. Fenton pulled into the driveway and still without a sound got out of the car and stalked towards the door. Joe hastily unbuckled his seatbelt and scrambled out of the car after his father. He had the sneaking suspicion that if he was not in the house by the time his father reset the alarm, he'd be sleeping in the car. _

_Wow. Never knew it was possible to stomp quietly. And there his father was, stomping his way toward his office without so much as a creaky floorboard. Joe headed towards the stairs, thinking it was probably a good idea to let his father stew in private. But as he reached the bottom, Fenton growled at him to get his "butt in here right now." Joe gulped before complying. He shut the door behind him. Fenton paced back and forth for what seemed an eternity. Joe had opened his mouth and was about to speak when Fenton finally stopped short, whirled and advanced on him so fast that the blond teenager backpedaled into the doorknob,which jammed him painfully in the kidney._

"_What the HELL were you thinking? You are so damn reckless. You could have been killed!"_

_Joe decided to ease the tension by making a joke of it, so he quipped "But I wasn't, was I?" he compounded the error by producing a cheeky grin as he spoke. But as soon as the words left his mouth, Joseph Aaron Hardy knew he had just made the Single Biggest Mistake of his life. For a full 30 seconds he was positive his Father was going to stroke out in front of him. In fact he was quite convinced he saw a vein explode in Fenton's temple._

"_Maybe not but you damn near got your brother killed because of your stupidity" Fenton ranted. _

_That pronouncement was unfair in Joe's mind. "Dad, he's fine! We've been hurt worse playing football with the guys! And geez it ain't like I asked him to come diving through the window to my rescue. I coulda handled it just fine." Joe's voice took on a tinge of resentment._

_Fenton wasn't buying it. "Oh, and what about Tank?" Fenton was referring to the very large individual who was bodyguard and muscle for the chop shop. " I suppose you thought you could have handled him all by yourself.. and taken out the guy with the blowtorch at the same time?" Fenton resumed his pacing. "No, you had to go blundering in there without taking any time to check the surroundings. You had to jump into the middle of the fray without bothering to consider the ramifications of your actions." _

_Joe was not about to admit anything yet. But his dander was up and he felt he was unfairly being singled out. So he made the Second Single Biggest Mistake of his life and allowed his anger to override his better instincts. _

_What followed was epic. Both Hardys had explosive tempers. Fenton's rarely showed, and up until that night, never in front of his children. Joe's was untempered by wisdom and experience. A clash was inevitable. But you couldn't hold Joe solely responsible either. Fenton made his own mistakes,, chief among them his scathing commentary on his younger son's failings. "My God don't you ever think before you leap? Always it's a complete and utter lack of consideration of those around you. How many times has Frank had to save you from yourself? When are you going to learn he has better things to do? Did you know he has a full scholarship to NYU? But he won't take it because he thinks you need him!" _

"_Need him to do what, exactly?" Joe seethed in response._

"_Oh, I don't know...pull you out of burning buildings that you go rushing into despite it being on fire. Helping you cram for a chemistry exam 6 hours before the test. And when was the last time Frank rushed headlong into danger without thinking things through and you had to go save him? Hmmm? Why can't you be more like your brother? Fenton shouted as he threw a coffee mug across the room. _

_That proved to be Fenton's Single Biggest Mistake of his life. In nearly 20 years of parenthood , Fenton had never once compared his children to each other. He had treated each of them as unique individuals with their own strengths and weaknesses. He had never before accused one son of being less worthy than another. He regretted the words before they finished coming out, but it was already too late. _

_Joe lost it at those words and there was no taking them back. "Because you are always telling me I am just like YOU!" he seethed, then spun around in place before flinging open the office door. He rushed past his mother, who had been woken by the noise of 2 men arguing at full volume and had come downstairs to see what the ruckus was all about. _

_Joe grabbed the keys to his father's car off the table and ran outside, tears clouding his vision. He tore open the driver's side door, and slammed it shut again with an anger that threatened to consume him. The sun was just peeking over the horizon as dawn approached. He flung the car into gear and tore out of the driveway leaving skid marks behind. He had no real destination in mind, but was not really surprised when he found himself at the cliffs above Barmet Bay. This had been his refuge after Iola died and one of the few places he went to think deep thoughts on the rare occasions when he had deep thoughts to think. _

_Joe spent most of the day there, just sitting and thinking. Even after it had cooled off and begun to rain, he stayed. Not as self imposed penance, but because he was, for the first time since his beloved Iola's murder, taking stock of himself. As the hours passed, he went over every aspect of his life and how his actions impacted those around him, especially his brother. He was forced to come to the conclusion that he was ruining his brother's life. _

**Present Day**

"Joe! I never minded anything I ever did for you!" Frank was astonished, and a little angry at his father for putting such thoughts in his Baby Brother's head.

Joe just drained the last of his drink before leaning forward and taking Frank's hand in his. "I know. That's what made it all the more important that I _did _leave. Okay, I grant that the way I left sucked and you absolutely did NOT deserve it. For that I am truly sorry and I hope you can forgive me that one last act of childish stubbornness. But Dad _was _right about some things. Mainly the fact that you were being held back out of some self imposed role you gave yourself to be my protector. Hell, Frank you pretty much raised me. Well, Mom helped, but all the stuff that little boys do with their father? I did with YOU. Not Dad. And before you get all puffed up with righteous indignation, Dad and I have had that conversation. We've made our peace with it and in fact have come out of it with a much stronger relationship. Dad cannot help who and what he is and you know damn well neither of us would ever have it any other way." Joe leaned back and caught the eye of the server and asked for the bill.

Frank pulled out his wallet and produced a credit card which was promptly swiped and returned. Joe insisted on leaving the tip and threw a few bills down with the signed receipt and they made their way out the door into the cool evening air.

Joe jumped into the passenger side and sat there, quietly, waiting for Frank to make the next move. Frank, for his part slipped in on the driver's side and started the car. As he pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards Bayport, he said "Runs in the family, you know."

Joe replied "What do you mean?"

"Like Dad. I can't help it either. The Big Brother overprotective thing. It's who I am."

"You could've been so much more. And you _should've_ been so much more. I wasn't going to be the reason you weren't. You mean too much to me. So, I left. No more having to limit yourself on my account. Without me around to muck things up you were free to flourish in whatever it was you decided to do. And that's why I was so resentful when I did come back and you immediately resumed your old role. You weren't supposed to have stayed in stasis the whole time. You were supposed to find something better to do." Joe sighed. He wasn't angry at his brother, or even disappointed in him. _For _him, maybe. Disappointed that he had been unable to escape the box he had pigeonholed himself into when he became Joe's de facto father figure.

Frank, for his part, was feeling the guilt even more strongly than before. Joe had basically told him that his reasons for leaving were the most unselfish ones possible. Joe had done it for him, out of the love he bore his Big Brother. The same Big Brother that tossed aside that bond out of peevishness and immediately found himself a substitute brother in Mike. And was still keeping secrets from Joe, even though Joe had just told him a secret of his own. Joe had taken control of his destiny, and succeeded in becoming his own person; he was Joseph Aaron Hardy. Who was he? He was Fenton's Son; he was Joe's Brother. There was no Franklin Paul Hardy. And that scared him.

Frank was quiet the rest of the ride, and soon Joe stopped trying to fill the empty silence. As they pulled into the small parking lot by the office and Joe's upstairs apartment, Frank stopped Joe as he made to go upstairs. He pulled his younger brother into a fierce hug and said "Thank you for telling me. But the rest, is up to me now. Damn Doctor Suitland for being right."

Joe laughed, but it was a hollow one. "Yeah. How dare he get into our heads and stuff." Joe took his brother by the upper arms and gave him a little shake. " I meant it, Bro.. I am an impatient bastard. I want you to tell me what really happened with this Mike character and I won't wait forever. You shouldn't have to deal with it alone. You took care of me for damn near 20 years. My turn to take care of you." and with that he ran up the stairs, luggage slung over one shoulder and his laptop case in one hand as he readied his keys in the other.

Frank stayed in the parking lot for over an hour before he forced himself to drive the ten minutes to his own apartment, where he spent another sleepless night.

**A/n: **_If you are ever in DC, go the Spy Museum and eat at Zola's afterward. trust me on this. Those pork belly sliders that Joe ordered? sublime. and I also recommend getting your picture taken with the Lone Sailor despite his being a very naughty Boatswain's Mate with his hands in his Peacoat. Random useless trivia: the water in the fountains surrounding the giant map and the statue contain water from all seven seas. _


	6. Chapter 6

**A/n:** _Warning: Crude language ahead. _

**Chapter Five**

Dr Suitland wasted no time at their next session and got directly to the point. "So? How did the conversation go?"

Frank laughed, but it was a dark and hollow sound. "It went. You would have been proud, neither one of us drew blood." Frank's voice was bitter with self loathing.

"I am confused, Frank." Dr Suitland was puzzled. "Of course I cannot go into specifics, but every single session I had with your brother emphasized how much he cared for you. Now that you know his reasons for enlisting, can you not see that as well? Regardless of whether or not you thought they were valid?"

"That's the _problem_" Frank exploded angrily, letting it show that Joe and Fenton did not have the monopoly on the Infamous Hardy Temper after all. "He left because he was unselfish and wanted to do what was best for me. And what did I do in return? _Replaced_ him in under 6 weeks. I went and found myself somebody new to look out for.. and fucked that up royally."

Dr Suitland leaned in towards the distraught young man. "Okay, let's talk about that then, shall we? Why this compulsion to take care of your brother so much that you had to find a substitute immediately? And why do you feel as you oh so eloquently put it 'fucked up royally' when Mike was killed?" He leaned back, letting Frank take the time he needed to calm himself and compose his thoughts before speaking.

It was a long time before Frank considered himself able to voice his tumultuous feelings. And even then he wasn't sure he did them justice. There wasn't a way to adequately explain in mere words the depth of his love for Joe. It was easier to hide behind the teasing and the bantering. Truth be told he wasn't sure himself why, if push came to shove, he'd sacrifice himself if it meant Joe would live. So he decided to not answer the first question and instead talked about how his stupidity led to the death of a young man who didn't deserve to die.

**Flashback**

_It was about halfway through the football season. Frank had begin attending Mike's practices as well as tagging along for most of their away games. He became sort of an unofficial member of the team, at first just helping the assistant coaches lug equipment but more and more found himself acting as the team's tutor in everything from 'rocks for jocks', as geology was sometimes derisively known, to the more ambitious players' foray into Calculus and Physics. He had discovered that the team was generally divided into two groups.. about a third had been encouraged to use their football skills instead of their brains to succeed in life, and the rest were true student athletes.. there to get a degree and just got lucky that their prowess on the field was helping them pay for it. Mike was definitely a member of the former group. Frank was occasionally struck by the subtle differences between his MIA brother and his roommate. Joe was every bit as smart as he was, although he tended to not apply himself as heavily. Mike struggled with every class after the first semester's basics. Joe could get B's without breaking a sweat( and A's if he did). Mike was lucky if he kept up a C average despite all the extra help he was getting. But Frank dismissed that minor difference, just as he dismissed several others. Like Mike's inability to know when Frank needed some time alone, or to tell when he needed to talk. _

_One afternoon, during practice, Frank was sitting by the sidelines waiting for the guys to finish as they had a study session planned over pizza and wings when he noticed a couple of newcomers. They stood out for a few reasons, not the least of which was their age. They were clearly beyond the normal age of your typical college student. Frank naturally assumed they were Scouts from one of the pro teams so paid them little attention when they began speaking to the first string quarterback Jesse Mathews. Unlike Mike, Jesse was good enough for the Pros, and probably had a decent chance at a post college career. He was distracted momentarily by raised voices in that direction but thought little of it as Jesse was known to have a bit of a temper and he was most likely not a fan of whatever platitudes the scouts were spouting. He had little patience for sycophants and toadies. They two strangers left after a few more minutes and Jesse angrily threw a sweat towel on the ground and stalked over to the field where he spent the rest of practice throwing the ball as hard as he could. After practice he said he was going to skip the study session as he had some things to do. Frank shrugged. It wasn't as if he really needed the help. _

_It was a week before Frank got a hint that there was anything out of the ordinary. Mike came bursting into their room all excited. "Dude! Guess what?" He was practically giddy with excitement._

_Frank laughed and replied "Well spit it out, 'Dude'"_

"_I am starting tomorrow! can you believe it? Biggest Conference game of the Season and I am starting!" _

_Frank was both pleased and puzzled. He was pleased for Mike, but puzzled that the coach would bench Jesse. "That's great, Mike. But why isn't Jesse starting?" _

"_Car accident on the way home from practice I guess. Messed him up pretty bad. Busted shoulder. We're all going over the infirmary later to say Hi and sign his cast." _

_It was Homecoming, so the crowd was both larger and rowdier than usual. Mike surpassed even the Coach's expectations and threw for 2 TDs and ran for one. The final score was NYU 27 Fordham 21. There was much celebration that night and Mike was riding a very large high. Frank couldn't help but be swept up in the glee. He only vaguely noted the return of the two gentleman from before who were in the stands. But they were scowling, so Frank was momentarily confused. Maybe he was wrong about his earlier assumption about them being scouts? But it was a fleeting thought and he readily allowed himself to be distracted by the post game festivities._

_The next two games were non conference and Mike split, one win, one loss. Coach was happy with his replacement and he was fairly certain they would be able to scrape out a winning record despite not having their Star Player.. Then the two gentlemen returned to the playing field the day before their next conference game. Frank was again sitting on the sidelines and keeping an eye on his pseudobrother when he saw them approach Mike just as they had Jesse a few weeks earlier. And just like Jesse, Mike got very angry at them before stalking away. As soon as practice was over, Mike came stomping over to the bench where Frank was sitting. "What's up? You look, well, pissed." the elder Hardy inquired. _

"_Damn skippy I am pissed. The _nerve_ of those bastards!" Mike raged as he paced angrily back and forth. _

"_What those two guys you were talking to earlier? What did they want?" _

"_They had the audacity to 'suggest' that I fumble a few times on purpose during the game this weekend." Clearly Mike's sense of Fair Play was incensed at this outrageous request. _

_Frank, for his part, was clearly recalling the meeting those same men had had with Jesse not so long before his accident. And Frank began to suspect that accident...wasn't one after all. And knowing Jesse as he did, although not as well as he did his roommate, he knew that Jesse's angry reaction that day was for the same reason as Mike's. "Mike, we gotta go talk to Jesse. NOW."_

"_Nuh uh" Mike shook his head. "Coach! He'll wanna know about this!"_

"_Maybe. But Mike, those two guys? They talked to Jesse. Just before his accident. We have to find out what they said to him too." Frank's PI brain was working overtime. _

_So off they went to the Frat House where Jesse lived. Jesse wasted no time in confirming Frank's suspicions. "Yeah those SOBs wanted me to throw the game against Fordham. As if. Said they would make it worth my while if I did, and make me wish I had if I didn't". Jesse was bitter. "That was just the first time. They came to me once more, the day of the 'accident'"He used air quotes as he was convinced, just as Frank was by now of the laughability of that term. "I had told them in no uncertain terms that only was I NOT interested in anything they had to offer, I was going straight to the Coach."_

_Jesse paused in his ranting for a minute and took a deep breath. "I was 2/3 of the way to Coach's campus apartment when I got sideswiped."_

"_Did you see the driver?" Frank asked._

"_Nope, tinted windows. But I have my suspicions." Jesse glowered darkly. _

_Frank agreed. "Jess, do you think Coach would be involved?" _

_Both Mike and Jessie immediately started clamoring protests. "No way in hell, Man. Coach B is solid. I told him at the hospital when he came to visit me about those two guys. He was shocked as hell, and almost as pissed as I was."_

"_The we need to go tell him right now that they are back and after Mike. Thanks, Jess. If we need anything more, like an official statement, we can count on you, right?" Frank asked, already knowing the answer. _

_Jess nodded vigorously. "Any time. Just ask."_

_The ride to Coach Barker's office on campus was short. Coach B had an open door policy so it was only a moment before they were ushered into his office. As expected, he was furious and appalled at hearing the news that Mike too had been approached and he apologized for not having warned him after hearing Jesse's story in the hospital. "I couldn't get anything on those two guys, and Jess never got any names." he looked expectantly at Mike, who shook his head no. _

"_Coach, I don't know if you are aware of my background" Frank began hesitantly._

"_Son, the entire NY Metropolitan area knows who your father is. And at least half know that you and your brother follow in his footsteps. Consider yourself hired." _

_Mike looked askance at Frank. Frank sighed. He had never spoken of his family much beyond a few bland comments. "My father is Fenton Hardy. He's a Private Investigator and very very good at what he does. He used to be a NYC cop. Joe and I have been doing our own cases since we were kids." Unlike the months previous, there was no catch in his voice as he spoke Joe's name. The momentary shame at that was quickly suppressed as he eagerly sunk his teeth into an actual case. It felt good to have that rush of adrenaline that came with a new mystery to solve. So what if he didn't have Joe to back him up? He had Mike, who was so much like Joe it was almost the same._

**Present Day**

"Almost' being the operative word." Frank sighed, with more than a little tinge of regret and shame.

Dr Suitland said nothing, but waited for Frank to continue.

"Little things, you know? Like Joe always knew how to tail somebody without being seen. Or how to bluff his way out of trouble most of the time. Things that were instinctive to him, but Mike had no frame of reference. And I was so caught up in stuff that I just assumed he'd be at the right place at the right time. I failed to take into account all those little things that proved Mike was _not_ Joe. And it was those little things that made the difference. He had no awareness of what was going on around him. Joe would hear a sound that didn't quite fit, and he'd go on alert, looking for the danger. Mike totally ignored it, until it was too late." Frank's voice did crack then.

"Frank, we don't have to continue right now. But I do want to see you sooner than next week. We are close to a break through and I do not want to lose the momentum."

Frank agreed and once out of the office set up an appointment for 3 days hence with Mary before returning to his own office. It was a hive of activity today, with everyone actually in and doing various things. Sam was on the phone, Fenton was doing paperwork and Joe was bouncing between a computer search and lunch.

Joe wasted no time getting on Frank about telling him. To his credit he was not annoyingly whiny, but couched his requests in a civilized manner. He truly was worried about his brother and only wanted to help. But Frank was still stuck in his insistence that Joe would never find out about his infidelity. He could not bear the thought of Joe's reaction if he found out the truth, so began to push Joe even further away than he had before. This only served to befuddle Joe and emphasize his own feeling that Frank didn't trust him. And Fenton? Fenton was stuck in the middle, and the stress was beginning to show. He started leaving the office early, claiming tiredness. Laura began to notice as well. Her husband was looking pale and ill, and she feared that the stress would trigger another heart attack.

So it was a dysfunctional Hardy and Sons Investigations that totally missed the signs that an old adversary was back and looking for payback. And when it was over, their lives would be forever changed.

******A/n: **_I originally wanted to get all the way through to Mike's demise in this chapter but felt it was too long and clunky but didn't want to just write a 3 sentence synopsis.. So instead I am setting the stage for Frank's realization that he's been a complete twit( with some help from a few unlikely sources). But hey, at least you have a clue what happened with The Blond Imposter. I will warn you now.. subsequent chapter may get a little.. graphic..._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/n:** _This chapter( and subsequent ones from Joe's POV) are going to be shorter as there won't be a whole lot for him to do for a while except wait for help. _

**Chapter Six**

Joe was beginning to feel more than a little frustrated. He was trying to be patient, really, but since it was such a foreign concept it was tough. For the life of him he could not figure out why Frank was being such a stubborn idiot about the whole thing. Okay so this Mike character looked like him, and he died. He was a little weirded out by the resemblance. But he could not wrap his head around the fact that Frank was so insistent that he never find out 'the truth' whateverthehell that meant. The truth was simple, Mike got shot while walking back from a football game. At least according to the coroner's report and the subsequent police reports. He was confused as to why Frank thought this was soooo terrible that he couldn't tell him. Not like he'd never been shot before, or seen others get shot..and killed. Joe unconsciously rubbed the now faded scar that ran the length of his torso that was the most obvious indication of that irrefutable fact.

His latest attempt at getting the damned 'truth' was met with more denial and even a little anger. It was followed by Frank pulling the exact same stunt he had pulled 7 years earlier; he avoided Joe like the Plague. Ironic, a little annoying and, he reluctantly admitted, he was a little hurt. Yet another thing that hammered home the point that Joe had done his brother a disservice back when he enlisted. He'd love to try and make it up to him if only the Brat would just let him _in. _

His talks with Fenton began to revolve less around his continuing research in the aftermath of the Frisk kidnapping, as that had pretty much come to a standstill, and more about his devolving relationship with his brother. But he also noticed that his father was feeling the strain just as much as he was. And while Joe was able to channel his frustration and anger into physical releases such as going to the gym and swimming for hours at a time, Fenton was feeling his age. So after a while Joe stopped even talking to his father when Fenton had taken to leaving work early every day and coming in later and later when he did come in at all.

Joe was feeling extremely isolated and alone. All his attempts to get close to Frank were being rebuffed, and he recognized that Fenton had his own problems and out of respect he tried to lessen the burden on his father as much as he could. That mean he was spending more time out at Barmet Bay and reaching out to those friends that were still in town, which basically meant Chet, Biff and Tony. The latter 2 were very busy coaching and cooking respectively, and Chet was not exactly a man of leisure out on the family farm. And unfortunately, despite him living with Frank, was unable to offer any insight. Their schedules were polar opposites and Chet seldom saw his dark haired roomie.

It was becoming normal for Joe to be the only one in the office at any given time. Sam was ever their eyes and ears on the street and spent weeks at a time out and about. Frank was seeing Dr Suitland as often as 3 or 4 times a week now and he never returned after sessions, no matter what time of day they were. This particular afternoon, Fenton had gone home for lunch almost 3 hours earlier and had not returned. So when the mail arrived, Joe was the only one there. He sorted the mail into the usual piles; bills to paid, checks to be deposited and various assorted correspondence. Those envelopes addressed to individuals he placed on their respective owners' desks, while he slit open all the ones address to Hardy and Sons. A few he could pass along to others to deal with, but the largest envelope , which was from the FBI, he had no idea what to do with. It was a copy of a release notice for one Mario Vincente. The name meant nothing to Joe, so he assumed it was from a case that was before his time. He made a mental note to ask whoever came into the office first who the guy was and why the FBI would be so kind as to let the Agency know he was loose. He should have known better than to wonder.

Of course, as the day progressed beyond dinner and no one had returned, he decided it could wait until the morning. He had called the house earlier, but his mother had told him that Fenton was napping. Joe figured it was no big deal and a few more hours wouldn't make much of a difference. He would regret that assumption before the night was out.

He had dinner at Mr Pizza but didn't stay long as the place was very busy with the next generation of Bayport High students who filled the booths much the same way he and his buddies had in years past. He half thought about seeing a movie, but nothing interested him at all. Wasn't even 10 pm and he was contemplating hitting the hay. He grimly chuckled as he divested himself of the day's clothes and slipped into flannel PJ bottoms and an old Navy PT shirt. The reflective lettering had long since faded away but the painfully bright yellow was still as headache inducing as ever. It was probably 2 in the morning when he was woken by the alarm that connected his apartment with the office downstairs. Instantly awake, Joe ran downstairs barefoot. He knew the alarm system was linked to 911 and they would automatically send a squad car out so he didn't call Fenton. The front door was jimmied open and stood ajar. Joe slipped in and noticed the only light was coming from Fenton's office. He silently padded over to the door and stood there, listening. He heard only a slight rustling of papers and no voices. He risked easing the door open a little more and saw only one figure rifling through the desk and filing cabinets, their back to the door. Joe did a quick head swivel and decided there was no one else in the room, so he stood straight and pushed the door open wide, flipping the light switch on as he said in a hard voice "Who the hell are you and why are you ransacking my father's office?"

The Perp stood sharply, surprised but not rattled. He was dressed head to toe in black jeans, sweat shirt, boots and gloves. Although he wore no mask he was wearing the sort of camouflage paint he was used to seeing on the Marines that used to hitch rides on his ship for deployments. He made no sound but swiftly came at Joe, the flashlight in his hand held high as a weapon.

Joe easily avoid the initial attack and responded with his own right hook. He knew the police response would be a few minutes so he was determined to either keep the guy busy until then, or if he got lucky, be able to subdue him altogether. He should have known it wasn't going to be that easy. The guy was older than he, but in just as good a shape and not hindered by bare feet and sleepiness. He also used that flashlight like a truncheon. All Joe had was an intimate knowledge of the dark office and a fierce loyalty to his father.

The fight went on for several long minutes. Joe was sure the cops would be there any second so when he heard a noise behind him he assumed it was them. He was wrong, as he realized half a second too late to avoid the back end of a gun that crashed down behind his left ear.

In the silence that followed, the intruder nodded in thanks at his partner. "What do we do with this joker?" the new guy asked with a trace of a Jersey accent.

"Asked me what I was doing in _his father's office_" came the reply, a feral grin showing tobacco stained teeth.

"Oh really?" was the response as the implication set in. "Betcha the Boss would just _love _to meet him then doncha think?"

"I was just thinking the same thing, yeah. Be way more useful than some damn papers. Help me tie him up."

The two men swiftly secured Joe's hands behind his back with a zip tie cuff and did the same to his ankles. They ripped his tee shirt off him and tore strips to use as a blind fold and gag and one longer one to tie his ankles to his wrists in a modified hogtie. The man with the flashlight led the way out into the main area while the other hoisted the unconscious blond over a shoulder. They were out of the building and away in less than 5 minutes, even after taking the time to close the door leading onto Fenton's office and closing the main door after flipping the lock from the inside.

It was late the next morning before anyone was aware of the events of the night before. As Fenton came to the front door a little after 10 am, he noticed a small manila envelope addressed to him propped up against the doorjamb. He picked it up as he entered. The office door that held his sons' desks was partly open and he waved to Frank, who was deep in conversation on the phone. Frank tipped his head in acknowledgement but continued speaking. There was no sign of Joe. Fenton was walking toward his office door as he slit open the envelope. He had pulled out the contents, but the photographs enclosed were back facing him, so he didn't see them as he entered his disaster of an office. 

"Frank! Get in here! **NOW**!" Fenton bellowed as he turned the photographs over an automatic pilot. It proved to be a mistake as the contents of the photographs made his blood run cold. Actually it did more than that as Fenton immediately crashed to the floor, hitting his head on an overturned chair as his heart gave out on him.

Frank had heard his father's shout but made no move to do as he had been instructed until he heard a heavy thud. Hastily hanging up, he ran to his father's office and stopped short at the horrific scene before him. He barely registered the destroyed office and didn't even see the pictures as they had fallen face down when Fenton collapsed. He dropped to his knees beside his father and felt for a pulse but there was nothing.

He was frantically administering CPR when Sam came in, giving a general "Anybody home?" as he walked past the coffee pot. Frank shouted for Sam to call 911 in a panicked voice. Sam whipped out his cell and was dialing as he rushed across the room. As soon as he finished, he knocked Frank's hands out of the way and took over CPR, giving Frank a short rest. But it was for no more than a few seconds as Frank continued to breathe into his father's lungs.

It was less than 10 minutes before the EMTs arrived and they wasted no time getting Fenton onto a gurney and off to the hospital. Frank was clearly useless despite his automatically starting CPR so Sam called Laura and gave her the bad news. Hanging up the phone, he turned to Frank and asked, a trifle harshly "Where's Joe?"

Frank only shook his head, he had no idea and wasn't all that interested in keeping tabs on his brother lately. Sam gave a snort of disgust as he too was well aware that Frank had been acting like a twit recently and often lent a sympathetic ear to Fenton who was caught between his two sons' issues. As he surveyed the wreck around him, his eye caught a glimpse of a photograph on the floor near where Fenton had been laying when he came in. It was the only picture to have fallen face up of the group of five or six. Like Fenton before him, Sam's blood ran cold as he gazed at the picture more carefully.

"Oh hell" Sam's voice was quiet but intense and it wormed its way through the self imposed haze Frank had been hiding behind. The picture slid out of Sam's nerveless fingers but Frank snatched it out of mid air. His,blood too turned to ice in his veins as he saw the bloodied and battered face in the photograph. It was covered in bruises, but there was no mistaking it. Joe's bright blue eyes leapt out at him and the pain in them ripped his heart to pieces.

**A/n: **_ before you ask/comment/etc: yes the question of why the cops never showed will be answered. _ _The next chapter will backtarck a smidge as you finally find out how Mike met his end with a few more details. Then you get to see Frank be given what for by an unlikely source. _


	8. Chapter 8

**A/n:** _ this starts off backtracking just a smidge from the previous chapter before the moment everyone has been clamoring for. _

**Chapter Seven**

Dr Suitland was, in his professional opinion, a damn good psychologist. He had many challenging patients, but had never seriously doubted his ability to help any of them forge a new lease on life. Until now. Frank Hardy was his toughest nut to crack and he was beginning to despair of ever breaking through. The younger brother Joe was a breeze in comparison. And that was saying something as the young blond had been a trial and tribulation with his sarcasm laced commentaries on life.

Dr S really really _really _wanted to get the two of them in a room together. He had no problems whatsoever blindsiding Frank by instituting an intervention as he was well aware that sometimes being forced to confront your deepest fear was the only way to get past it. But Frank was so adamantly against it he feared that he would become physically ill if the subject were to be brought up again. So the subject was shelved after that one time, despite his misgivings. In fact, he was very close to seeking a medical opinion. Today, he hoped to delve deeper into the mystery of Mike's final fate. The last few weeks of sessions had been leading up to it, with tales of secret meetings with coaches, campus security and the Dean. Under different circumstances he would have been mesmerized by the inner workings of a Sting/Investigation. Unfortunately it had ended badly and a young man was now dead, and his patient was blaming himself. Privately, the Psychologist felt this was more a character flaw than anything else. Frank seemed to have this compulsive need to fix things, to be the protector and benefactor. It was hardwired in his brain. Normally, a laudable trait, but the good doctor was beginning to think Frank was self imploding from it. To that end, he made it a condition of this next session that Fenton be there too. Frank had acquiesced to the request that somebody outside of the Doctor be told the whole story, and had insisted that only Fenton was to be considered. Unfortunately, the good Doctor was only a Psychologist, not a medical doctor so was not schooled in the subtle signs of physical( or mental) stress on a former heart attack victim. While Fenton readily agreed to the conditions as set forth by his eldest son, he privately thought Frank was being a twit when he made his father swear to never breathe a word to Joe. Luckily, Frank had neglected to make him swear to not tell his mother, so he had no qualms whatsoever venting to Laura. Out of consideration he was planning on asking her to abide by the No Joe rule as well. Fenton had thought that would be enough as his own physician was warning him to take it easy. Before the week was out, he would have been proved wrong.

Dr Suitland greeted Fenton and Frank at the door to his office with a smile and handshake for each. He had already arranged for his follow on appointment to be moved to a later time as he was quite certain this would run late. He offered coffee to both men, who accepted as they made themselves comfortable. Fenton deliberately sat himself very close to Frank on the couch, just as Dr S deliberately sat across from them for a change. Normally he sat next to Frank. This time he figured Fenton would be needed more.

Neither of the older men said anything beyond polite chit chat, waiting for Frank to make the first move. It took a while. Longer than any other previous session in fact. It was nearly 30 minutes before Frank put down his long emptied coffee cup and grasped his father's hand, clutching it tightly. This in and of itself was rare. Frank, unlike Joe was not demonstrative at all to other people other than his younger brother and whatever serious girlfriend he was involved with. Fenton realized with a jolt that the last one Frank had had was Callie and that was almost 7 years ago now.

Frank swallowed convulsively and turned beseeching eyes on his father. "Don't hate me. It's bad enough that Joe would."

**Flashback**

_The decision had been made early in the investigation to not bring anyone else from the team in on it. Only Coach Baker and Mike were fully involved. Not even the assistant coaches could be told as there was speculation that one of them was involved somehow. And since no other player had come forward with a similar tale, it was assumed that if anyone else was involved they were either complicit, or too scared to come forward and thus be at risk of telling the bookies. Mike was told to act as if he was considering their 'requests' and make inquiries as to what would be in it for him. To his credit, once he got over his righteous indignation, Mike jumped into the role with relish. He had confided to Frank once that he was a closet Theater junkie and had often acted in High school and community plays growing up. That gave Frank a confidence in Mike's ability to not tip off the bad guys. In fact he was doing so well that Frank began to assign some of Joe's attributes to Mike subconsciously. Joe was usually able to keep his cool under fire despite his hotheadedness in other respects, and almost never broke cover. Mike, however, was not so self controlled, as everyone found out the hard way._

_The day of the big game dawned clear and crisp. Perfect football weather. Frank was in his element. It just felt so right being in the middle of an investigation that he actually didn't care that it wasn't Joe who was his partner. In fact, more and more often he found himself having to force himself to think of his brother at all. Mike had well and truly become his partner and friend. _

_Everything before, during and after the game went like clockwork. Textbook operation. Mike performed flawlessly on and off the field. At halftime NYU was down by 10 and Coach B gave his usual impassioned pep talk in the locker room to fire up the guys. Frank had long since spotted the bookies in the stands and noted their smug looks as the game progressed. He reported that to the Coach and Mike just before Mike went back out onto the field. Mike only grinned widely and said "They won't be grinning by the time the 4th quarter ends!" _

_Coach clapped him on the shoulder and said "That's tellin' 'em!" before turning to Frank and letting the smile fade away. He looked at Frank and said "Look, I know what the plan was. Let the opposing team get a small lead to lull the bookies into complacency, then yank the rug out from under 'em with a come back win, so that they come after Mike like they did Jesse. But what if Mike can't pull it off?" _

_Frank was amazed. He was still riding the high he had been on for hours and laughed "What, don't you have any faith in your quarterback?" _

"_Coach Baker frowned. "It's not that. But any Coach will tell you the game ain't won until the last whistle blows."_

_Frank was determined ot not be brought down by the merest possibility of failure. "Then we let the bookies think all went as planned and we get them the next game. No Biggie." _

_The needn't have worried. Mike was every coach's dream. Made all the right plays, threw accurately and cleanly. By the end of the 3rd quarter they were tied. He started off the 4th with an 86 yard touchdown pass to his favorite receiver and never looked back. He added one more touchdown and got the ball within field goal range twice to win the game by 14 points. The locker room was a whirlwind of excited celebration. Except for one Assistant Coach. Frank had been caught up in the jubilation but was still sweeping the room for anything out of the ordinary. He spotted the defense coach muttering darkly into his cell phone while glowering at the Star of the day, Mike, who was basking in the adulation of his teammates. He was thrusting a fist in the air as he shouted "Take that you bastards!" The team all thought he meant their opponents and roared their approval. And yet the Defensive coordinator narrowed his eyes and spat a final sentence into his cell before angrily flipping it shut and stalking out of the room. Frank meant to go follow, but was swept into a group hug by some of the players and by the time he extricated himself, the coach was long gone. He was only slightly worried, figuring he could tell Coach B and the Dean soon enough. Now, it was time to party._

_And party they did although Frank had limited himself to just beer and even then only a few. Mike, OTOH, was beyond tipsy. So they decided to walk home rather than drive. It was late and the on campus shuttle had long shut down for the night and a cab would take an hour. They could walk back to the dorm in about 30 minutes as long as they didn't dawdle. Mike was not falling down drunk, but was definitely stumbling along, frequently bumping up against Frank or weaving unsteadily down the sidewalk. Frank had been laughingly teasing Mike for not being able to hold his liquor when the first tingling of something wrong sent shivers down his spine. He instantly stopped short, grabbing Mike by the arm and hissing for him to shush. But Mike wasn't Joe. Mike didn't have years of past experience and training. Mike didn't have the Hardy Instinct. Mike never figured the whole thing to be anything other than a lark, a fun adventure with no real cause for alarm or potential for danger. So, instead of immediately stopping and going on high alert, he laughed at Frank's attempts to quiet him and totally missed the two shadowy figures who appeared out of nowhere and shot him point blank in the chest. The whole thing, from the moment Frank first suspected something was amiss, to the 3 rapid bursts from a small calibre weapon, took less than 30 seconds. Frank was frozen for only a split second before dropping to his knees before Mike's lifeless body. He gathered the blond youth up in his arms and cried out his brother's name in his shock and confusion. _

**Present Day**

The last bit of the tale had been told in muffled sobs against Fenton's chest so only he heard the Freudian slip that indicated the truth of the matter.. that Frank had confused Mike with Joe. But Fenton still wasn't sure what was so horrible about it that explained Franks violent reaction every time somebody suggested that maybe he oughta tell his brother.

"Son, what happened was terrible and I am sorry that your first solo case had to end in tragedy. But be objective here. I don't understand why you are so determined that Joe never be told the story. It's not as if he's never had to deal with a murder before." Fenton tightened his embrace as he said the words, but Frank pulled away.

"I would have thought it was obvious, Dad!" he cried bitterly. "I threw my own brother over for a perfect stranger just because he had blond hair and blue eyes! I got Mike killed because I used him to replace Joe in my heart. I can never forgive myself for that, and I will be damned if I ever let Joe find out he could so easily be substituted!" Both Doctor and Fenton were stunned at this revelation, because they each were absolutely certain to the depths of their souls that Joe would not give a damn about any of it. And Fenton also would have thought Frank of all people would know that. Joe's capacity for forgiveness and unwavering love and loyalty was well known. And equally well known was Joe's idolization of his Big Brother. Short of shooting his own mother in cold blood, there was absolutely nothing in the universe that Frank could ever do that Joe would not forgive. Why couldn't he see that? Despite their combined efforts, neither Fenton nor Dr Suitland could get through to him.

The session ended in a stalemate. Dr Suitland privately mentioned to Fenton the availability of medication that could help Frank deal and suggested that if the opportunity arose to broach the subject. If Fenton was surprised at this unusual breach of doctor /patient confidentiality, he did not let it show. Instead he merely nodded in silent acknowledgement. Father and Son parted ways street level as they had each arrived in separate vehicles. Fenton went home and of course told his anxious wife everything that had transpired. True to his word he did insist she not tell Joe anything, although he was beginning to regret his own promise and was sorely tempted to steer Joe in the right direction when next he saw him.

Frank went home and fell into an exhausted but uneasy sleep despite it being not yet late afternoon. He was up early, before 6 and went for a very long run before returning to shower and change. He was at the office a little past 730 and did not notice the fresh marks by the door jamb that marked where the intruders from the night before had jimmied the lock. He breathed a silent prayer of thanks when he realized that Joe was not yet downstairs as he made a pot of coffee. His Father's office door was closed, as usual and since he had not seen his father's car in the lot had no reason to knock on the door.

He threw himself into his work, mostly paperwork that had begun piling up due to his own lack of reliability lately. He'd find some excuse to leave as soon as Joe showed up but also assumed it would be several more hours before he had to worry about that. He was on the phone with a client going over an expense sheet mid morning when his father walked by and waved a 'hello'. Frank nodded to show he had seen but continued his phone call, even after hearing his father's angry shout. He was just about to hang up when he heard an ominous thud. Rising hastily form behind his desk, he ran to Fenton's office where he was met with several horrifying things at once. He noticed the ransacked office first before focusing on the unconscious form of his father who was slumped over an overturned chair. He quickly knelt down and gently pulled his father over onto his back. The patriarch of the family was not breathing. Frank shoved aside the flashback of the last time he had come upon his father in a similar position and frantically felt in the shirt pocket for the small Nitro tablet he knew was always there, ever since his heart attack almost 3 years ago. He placed the pill under his fathers tongue before beginning CP, alternating between chest compressions and forcing air into his lungs. He was rapidly becoming exhausted and knew he would have to stop and call 911 when he heard the welcome sounds of Sam coming in. He shouted for Sam to call 911 as he continued to try and save his father. Sam wasted no time at all, knocking Frank's hands out of the way in seamless rhythm as he took over.

Although it seemed an eternity, the EMTs were there in mere minutes and Fenton was soon being whisked away to the hospital. It was only then that Sam took notice of the condition of the office and harshly asked Frank where Joe was. To his disgust, Frank had no answer. Sam was only peripherally aware of the problems the dark haired young man was dealing with, but right now he was disgusted and disappointed at Frank's uncharacteristic behavior. He, too saw how much Joe was hurting because of Frank's idiocy.

Shaking his head in annoyance, Sam began to survey the trashed room. His glance fell on a photograph that had been lying on the floor under Fenton. He picked it up and swore as he recognized the face. Well, that answered _that _question then. The time and date stamp on the digital reprint was from just about 6 hours earlier. Sam let the photograph slip from his fingers but Frank by some miracle had decided to rejoin the world and grabbed it. His shock was no less agonizing than his own.

A knock on the outer door brought them out of their reveries. A uniformed police officer came striding in. "Chief Reilly sent a squad car as soon as the address came over the wire, Mr Radley. Everything okay?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth though, he saw the state of the office and knew that everything was most emphatically not okay at all.

Sam took a deep breath and said "Tell Con that Fenton had another heart attack. I want this place gone over with a microscope, and put out an APB/Missing Person's report on Joe Hardy. He handed the stack of photographs over to the young officer before continuing. "And find out whyinhell the alarm never summoned a patrol car last night! Treat Joe's apartment upstairs like a crime scene. I'll go tell Laura in person and bring her to the hospital." Without another look at Frank, Sam strode out of the room and out the door.

Frank turned on autopilot and helped process the crime scenes. Upstairs they noted that yes indeed the internal alarm had been triggered but it wasn't until they got outside and noticed that the wires had been cut that linked the system to the 911 system that they got the answer that Sam had demanded. Since Frank had used the office he shared with Joe it was the last place anyone looked so it was early afternoon before he found the envelope on Joe's desk that contained the FBI's release notice concerning Vincente. It was then that he knew who had his brother. He told the young Officer who was first on the scene who wasted no time in informing Con Reilly who by then was at the hospital with Sam supporting Laura.

Eventually he no longer had any excuse to stay put and could not come up with a good enough reaosn to deny the offer of a ride to the hospital. So Frank found himself in the Cardiac Care Unit of Bayport General. Sam and Con were terse, professional and barely civil to him. He woodenly asked where his father's room was. He turned over the files on Vincente to Con and turned to walk away before being stopped by Sam's hand on his arm.

"Whatever the hell your problem has been these last few weeks, Get Over Yourself. Your brother needs all the help he can get and he sure as hell deserves better treatment than you have been giving him. If you weren't so damned wrapped up in yourself, you would have let him help like he has been trying to do this whole time. It stopped being about you a long time ago, Frank.. and now everyone is paying the price for your selfishness."

Frank only yanked his arm out of Sam's grip and walked to his father's room. It was quiet, only the sound of the heart monitor breaking the silence. Laura was sitting next to the bed, both her hands clasped tightly around Fenton's right one. But as soon as she heard the door, she turned and let go, rising in one smooth motion and striding over to her eldest son. Frank opened his arms, expecting her to walk into his embrace for a hug.

Instead, Laura Hardy slapped her son across the face. Hard. "YOU did this" she seethed in a barely audible whisper full of anger.

If anyone could have jolted Frank out of his self loathing, it was his Mother. He was so shocked by her uncharacteristic show of violence that he just stood there, mouth agape and she whirled and began pacing the room stopping only to wag a well manicured finger in his face, which was every time she passed by him.

Laura's wrath was mighty indeed. She pulled no punches, which was exactly what Frank needed. Joe and Fenton had been going about it all wrong. They were trying to be loving and supportive. Laura was so far beyond that into terror that she saw red. Right at this moment she did not give a damn that this was her eldest son whom she loved as deeply as the other men in her family. The other men in her family were in grave danger. And her youngest son's only hope lie in Frank's being able to break out of his mental and emotional prison.

"Do you have any idea the amount of stress you have been putting your father under?" she screamed in a low tone. "Forcing him to keep secrets from Joe, making him your patsy. And your poor brother, thinking you had no faith in him, no trust at all! Do you remember how hurt you were when he left without talking to you? Well Joe feels that same way! I thought you loved him? How can you shatter him so completely?" Laura barely paused for breath as she let the worry and anxiety over the state of her family's relationships bubble up to the surface.

As Laura ranted, slowly Frank began to see exactly what he had been doing to the family, the one thing he had never wanted to do, the one thing he thought he was preventing by refusing to let them in. At long last, Frank saw just what his actions had done and how perilously close to losing everything and everyone he loved he was. He staggered over to the chair and would have sobbed into his hands if it weren't for the fact that Laura was still on one hell of a roll and was not about to let him do any such thing. Ordinarily, the Hardy Matriarch stayed out of the menfolks' professional lives. She let them do their thing with nary a inquisitive nose any where near. Oh she knew they were very very good and she was proud of them, but she rarely asked any questions about the specifics of anything they did. Today, however, she was very explicit.

"I do not care what it takes, FIX THIS. Find. Your. Brother. And so help me God, Franklin Paul Hardy, don't you dare show your face to me again until Joseph is safe. Do you hear me?" and Laura turned her back on her son and faced her husband's pale face and resumed holding his unresponsive hand.

Frank slowly rose and placed a tentative hand on his mother's shoulder. She stiffened, but did not shrug it away. He leaned around and saw the tears flowing freely down her delicate face. Frank kissed the top of her head once, softly and whispered in a rough voice "I'll bring him home. Promise." He turned and and walked out of the room. As soon as the door closed completely, Laura's composure gave way and she sobbed loudly over her husband's chest.

For the first time in weeks, no, months, Frank was focused and not disabled by crippling emotion. He strode down the hall purposely and went over the corner of the waiting room, where Con and Sam were talking quietly. They both rose at his arrival, each noting the change in his demeanor. Looking at Con, Frank asked "Would you make sure she has everything she needs?"

"Of course, Frank. You don't even have to ask." he replied.

Nodding in thanks, Frank turned his gaze to Sam. "We have work to do" he said grimly.

Sam turned to Con and tilted his head in unspoken communication. Con returned the nod. "I'll call you any time there is a change. And you have the entire resources of the department at your disposal."

Sam turned to Frank and said "Let's go." With a final handshake between all three men, they were off to save Joe Hardy. (again)

**A/n:**_ So was Mom too hard on Frank? Was Sam too easy on him? Will Fenton make it? Will Joe? Tune in next time. Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel._


	9. Chapter 9

**A/n:** _Implied graphic situations( ie: torture) and a bit of swearing. You have been advised. _

**Chapter Eight**

Joe was jolted awake when his head collided with the roof of the car trunk he had been stuffed in. It was pitch black, he was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, he had one hell of a headache and he pretty much assumed he was screwed. Big time. (_I am soo out of practice. And I am getting too old for this shit) _thought to himself. In fact, not counting getting shot, which was not related to any investigation, or part of any revenge plot or psycho's deluded fantasy, Joe was rather surprised to note that it had been over 7 years since he was last in such a predicament.

It was a very small comfort to realize that, and an even smaller one to find it not entirely panic inducing after all. He may be out of practice, but he hadn't forgotten all he had been taught or learned over the years. Fat lot of good it was doing him at the moment. Joe sighed inwardly as he twisted his body trying to slip loose of his bonds, but to no avail. He was well and truly stuck until the car stopped . Here's hoping his infamous luck was also not out of practice and he'd get through this kidnapping too. As the car bounced along the road, jostling him anew with every pothole Joe tried to stay calm and take stock. Whoever his captors were, they were good, and that meant being extra careful when looking for an escape.

Joe had no idea how long he had been unconscious before he woke up, and had even less of a clue as to how long he was stuck in the back like the day's grocery shopping. As far as he could tell, it was several hours of travel along mostly highway. That almost ruled out the City completely. But he could be anywhere on the East Coast.. assuming of course he hadn't been tossed in a plane or helicopter while he was out cold. Oh crap. There he went, over thinking and being all Chicken Little again. The sky was most definitely not falling. Nope. He'd be fine. He'd been in worse scrapes. Dozens of times.

Except...usually he had Frank to depend on.

For the first time since waking up, Joe felt a shiver of dread. Things between him and his brother had, well, sucked, lately. And for once it wasn't his fault. Not that it made him feel any better. Not even a ripple of smugness. All that anxiousness that had bubbled to the surface while he had been stuck in the mine shaft came crashing down around him. The way Frank had been acting toward him lately, he was unsure whether or not Frank would even give a damn about finding him. There was Fenton, of course, and he knew his father would move Heaven and Earth if he thought it would help, but it was Frank who he really wanted. Frank who he really _needed_.

So it was a very subdued and despondent Joe Hardy who allowed himself to be lifted unceremoniously like a sack of potatoes out of the car without even trying to make it hard on his jailers. No one spoke, although the one who lifted him out gave a little grunt as he heaved Joe over his shoulder. It was a short walk, and there were stairs involved. Joe heard few noises, and what he did hear echoed as if they were in a long hallway. He made out the tell tale drip of water from pipes, and a skittering that he knew from past experience was most likely rats. And not the cute pet kind either. He couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through his body, which caused the one carrying him to chuckle evilly.

In no time at all he heard the click of a lock and the creak of rusty hinges being forced to move. His head cracked against the door jamb as he was carried into the room and unceremoniously dumped from the full 6 foot height of his captor. The hard concrete floor jarred his already battered body and he had the wind knocked out of him. He choked on the gag, which elicited more nasty chuckles from his abductors. One, he wasn't sure which, kicked him hard in the gut with a steel toed boot. Since he was hogtied he as unable to curl himself up in a ball to protect his belly, or even catch his breath. It was a long moment before he had recovered. Meanwhile his abductors continued to chuckle at his discomfiture. Finally one nudged him again, just as hard and said "Now you just sit tight while we go tell the boss he has a visitor."

(_Yeah you just do that_) Joe thought sourly as he vainly attempted to roll over onto his side. He managed to scrape the blindfold off, not that it mattered as the room was windowless and the only light was dim and coming in through the bottom of the door. As far as he could tell the room was empty. The floor was pocked concrete and the scent of rusty water and mildew was overwhelming. He was still working on the gag, scraping his face against the rough floor when the sounds of footsteps coming closer caused him to pause in his efforts. Sure enough, the door to his cell creaked open and in came his 2 pals. The light from the hall was low, and his own eyes were having a tough time focusing so he could not get a good look. Of course they were still in mufti so he would have been useless to a sketch artist anyway.

Neither man said anything when they noticed Joe had been able to remove the blindfold. One roughly rolled him back on to his stomach and slipped a knife through the strip of fabric that pulled his ankles up to his hands so that Joe was able to straighten out. He left the zip tie cuffs on though. On each side one grabbed an upper arm and dragged him out of the room and down the hallway. This time they stopped at an elevator and rode it up 3 stories. This corridor was better lit, and carpeted. There were only a few doors, all unmarked so Joe was unable to discern any new information about where he was or who his 'hosts' were. The came upon a door, just like every other one in the hallway, but this time his companions opened it and dragged him in to a large airy office. It was, as far as Joe could tell, tastefully if simply decorated. The desk was massive and probably mahogany. There was a single Tiffany Lamp on one corner. On the opposite, a state of the art telephone system. The center had a large old fashioned blotter and Joe could see the back of a picture frame. But what made him stare, and eventually snicker from behind his gag was the gentleman seated behind the desk. The dude was straight out of The Godfather movies. Oiled, slicked back grey hair. Black pinstriped suit, black shirt, white silk tie. Even a friggin' white carnation as a boutonniere. Long fingers steepled together held rings encrusted with various gem stones. The face was benign, but something told Joe the man behind it was anything but.

The voice was placid when he spoke. "Luigi here tells me you are a son of Fenton Hardy. I have not met you before. You look nothing like him.. or Frank. Them, I have had the pleasure of dealing with. So I wonder, do you take after your mother?"

Joe angrily struggled and tried to speak through the gag at the mention of Laura, but was unable to produce more than just a few muffled curses.

The man behind the desk spread his palms in a placating gesture. "My dear young man, you have no need to fear for your mother's safety. I do not allow harm to come to women and young children. I fear this makes me an anachronism amongst my colleagues, but I care not." His gaze became steely. "That protection does **not** extend to you, however." The coldness in his voice sent shivers down Joe's spine and he began to truly be afraid. There was something Old School Mafia about him. Once more Joe had visions of Al Pacino giving the order to have Fredo killed. He shivered again and ceased struggling.

"Luigi, he looks tired. Fetch him a chair." Back to pleasantries then. Fine. Two can play that game. Luigi, who turned out to be the one with the tobacco stained teeth, snagged a chair that had been positioned around a small dining table in the corner and none too gently shoved Joe into it. Since he was still zip tied, it was uncomfortable, but better than being held up by two goons with questionable personal hygiene habits. Luigi then removed Joe's gag. He spent a few moments working his jaw and wishing for a drink of water before spitting out "And just who the hell are you?" in a croak.

Luigi immediately responded by backhanding Joe across the face. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth as he glared at the ape.

"Now now, Luigi, it is a valid question after all. I am Mario Vincente. And your name? Other than Hardy, of course."

Joe's face showed the confusion he felt for a long moment. Then he decided to play his silly game. "Joe." he said tightly. He had heard the name before, and recently, but for the moment had nothing to connect with.

Vincente's face relaxed, barely. "Ahh so you are not aware of who I am. So refreshing to be anonymous. Allow me to give you a brief history." Vincente leaned back in his expensive leather chair and regarded Joe passively. "I am _La Cosa Nostra." _

Joe's face briefly registered shock before he regained his composure. It was seldom referred to that way in the US. Most proudly wore the title Mafia or Mobster. This alone told Joe that he was in very deep doo doo and he needed to tread extremely carefully if he was going to get out of this alive. Right now he wasn't too optimistic on his chances of getting out in one piece. Joe decided to gamble and ask another question. "What were your henchmen doing in my father's office?" His tone was polite, but not remotely friendly. He got another smack from Luigi for his trouble, this time across the cheek. He felt blood trickle down his face from the cut Luigi's over the top diamond encrusted ring made as he struck the blow.

Vincente said nothing, only smiled. The smile was cold and creepy as hell and Joe shivered again. Oh yeah, seriously deep doo doo. (_I think I am a dead man. This so totally sucks right now._)

"Several years ago, your father and brother were investigating me on behalf of the FBI. They of course were getting nowhere as I am quite careful about all my dealings, public, private, legal or otherwise. But one of my _consigliere_ betrayed me. He passed along information to your father that directly tied me to certain.. shall we say.. unsavory dealings. I went away to 'The Big House' for five years. I was released early last month for good behavior and other..considerations." Vincente's eyes grew harder than before and Joe gulped, the sweat of fear soaking his already damp hair. He shivered once again, all too aware of his bare chest and feet and the thin flannel lounge pants that were ripped and torn.

Vincente rose from behind his massive desk and smoothly came around to lean down and stare Joe in the eyes. Joe instinctively leaned as far back as he could, but he could not escape the reptilian like gaze that glittered with suppressed anger. "Your father knows which of my _consigliere_ betrayed me. I wish to know myself. I had sent Luigi and his brother Dom to obtain the files your father kept of his investigation. Imagine my surprise when they actually returned with something far more valuable?" Vincente positively gleamed with delight. "It is so rare to find Soldiers who can take advantage of the smallest opportunity."

"You think you can trade my life for a name?" Joe's voice was strained and thick with fear.

"Your father is not only a worthy adversary, he is an honorable man. I have no doubt he will protect his source even unto your doom." Vincente smiled with a hint of malice. "Oh of course I will make the offer of a trade, just to keep up appearances. But we both know, do we not, Mr Hardy, that your father would never compromise his morals or his reputation by giving up his source. No instead he will do everything on his power to find you." Vincente began leisurely pacing the room. "I hope he does. My interest is with him, young man. Not you. You are merely my incentive for him to come here. What happens to you is of no consequence to me. It is your Father I wish to break. Not you."

Joe's heart hammered in his chest. He knew true fear. He could tell that Mario Vincente was not a crazed psychopath, or an unstable personality. No, this was a cold, calculating completely rational man who was conducting business. "So offering my life for my father's is a waste of time, then?" he asked with barely a hint of his usual bravado.

"I admire your family loyalty. Fenton Hardy raised his sons well. But my dear fellow, your life is already forfeit. You have seen and heard too much already. And I owe your father some loss of his own to balance the losses he dealt me. You are already a dead man. The only question that remains is the manner of it." Vincente smiled again, another one that made Joe's insides go cold. "Dom, why don't you go prepare Joe's cell for him. I leave the particulars to you."

Dom smiled, his teeth missing as opposed to tobacco stained, and padded out of the room. "He does so enjoy his work." Vincente stopped pacing and returned to sit behind the massive desk. "He is a true artist. I do hope you can appreciate his talents."

Joe was never one for art, and said so. He figured, he was wasn't getting out of this one alive, so he might as well go out in a blaze of glory. His penchant for sarcasm could at least, if he was really lucky, enrage his captors so much that they would lose control and make it a quick ending. Unfortunately, control was something the Crime Lord had in spades. Vincente never even flushed or twitched so much as an eyebrow. It was then that Joe began to realize that he was about to experience more physical pain and suffering than he had ever endured before, and it would likely kill him. Very slowly and agonizingly.

(_Frank, please. Whatever it is I have done to make you hate me I'm sorry. Please, Big Brother, don't abandon me. I'm scared shitless and I need you. Please, Frank. I don't wanna die alone) _Joe silently begged as Luigi yanked him up out of the chair and out of the office, one arm threaded through his own tied ones, and the other snaked around his neck as he was dragged helplessly away.

Dom had been busy in the few minutes he had been out of Joe's sight. His cell was now illuminated by a single low watt bulb, but there was enough light for Joe to see the set of shackles that hung from a pulley fastened to a beam running across the ceiling. Luigi removed the zip tie from Joe's wrists, but never let go of Joe's arm as he did so. Dom grabbed one wrist and locked a shackle around it, following immediately with the other. The chain the shackles were attached to was on a winch, which Luigi cranked until Joe's feet left the cold concrete floor and his entire weight was being borne by his wrists and shoulders. He swung freely, his ankles still zip tied. He was contemplating the merits of a good swift kick in Dom's 'nads when even that small hope for personal satisfaction before he died was taken away. Luigi produced a length of rope and proceeded to secure Joe's freely swinging legs to a ring set in the floor. Now he was well and truly trussed up like a side of beef about to be sliced into steaks. Joe twisted his body, trying to find some miniscule weakness to exploit, but it was to no avail.

The two thugs left him then, hanging there. Joe shouted after them, but he was ignored. Tears ran down his face as he realized he was utterly alone. His shoulders burned with the strain they were under, and his diaphragm was struggling to contract enough to allow him to take a deep breath. He called out Frank's name again, softly, but felt no confidence in his brother. His own will to live abandoned him. Without Frank to depend on, he had nothing to hold on to.

He had no idea how long he hung there before Dom and Luigi returned. Luigi held a digital video camera and what looked to be one of those portable photo printers. Dom held...Joe gulped. It was too awful to contemplate. (_Nononono please no. Oh gawd Frank please I'msorryI'msorry don't leave me to die like this )_

Joe lost his voice from the screaming after about an hour. He lost consciousness soon after. He never saw Luigi place several photographs that he had printed off the video camera into a plain manilla enevelope and write his father's name on the front.

**A/n: **_If you think Joe feels abandoned now wait until he finds out Dad had another heart attack and won't be leading the Cavalry. He's really gonna give up then. _


	10. Chapter 10

**A/n:** _Frankly finally gets his head out of you know where..._

**Chapter Nine**

The drive to the Police station was short and silent. Sam was not yet ready to let Frank off the hook, but wasn't going to complain that he had finally managed to get his act together. Frank spent the entire time staring at the photographs that he had taken back from the Police Chief. Sam politely ignored the fat tears that fell from Frank's eyes on to the images of Joe in various stages of agony. The final photograph showed his brother unconscious and bleeding profusely from numerous lash marks across

his back and chest. But by the time Sam pulled in to the Visitor Parking lot of the Bayport Police station, Franks eyes were dry and a steely resolve had come over him. They were met at the main reception desk by Officer Herndon, the young man who had first arrived at the scene earlier in the day. He led them into a conference room that had already been set up as the home base of the investigation into Joe's kidnapping.

The next several hours were spent with everyone being brought up to speed on Mario Vincente. The original investigation had led Fenton, Sam and Frank into New Jersey and the City, so the local constabulary were unaware of his dealings.

Like many old school Mafioso types, Vincente shunned drugs but was not shy about every other vice out there, to include prostitution, gambling, and rum running. His interests also included that age old custom of paying 'protection money' and the 'suggestion' that only certain vendors be used for supplies and services. He was ruthless, slow to anger and people on both sides of the law were terrified of him. Vincente was the undisputed King of the East Coast and garnered a lot of respect out in Vegas as well. He had his own personal moral code. He did not allow his men to rape or assault women. He treated his own wife like a Queen and made sure his daughters married men who would do the same. He refused to use the younger children of his enemies as pawns. But if they grew up and followed in their father's footsteps, all bets were off. As Joe was finding out the hard way.

That peeved Frank no end. Joe was still in Japan when the case had come their way. Hell, he himself had only been a full fledged PI about 8 months. Joe had had no dealings with Vincente at all so should have been off limits according to the Crime Lord's personal code.

"Not necessarily, Frank." Sam responded. "We know the internal alarm was tripped. My guess is, Joe heard it, went downstairs to investigate, assuming that back up was en route. So he disrupts the break in, probably engages in a little hand to hand and gets overpowered. Something made the Perps decide to take him as opposed to leaving him there.. or flat out killing him."

"Also we now know that the link from our system to 911 was severed, which means no back up was forthcoming. And knowing Joe he never called to confirm." Sam shook his head in exasperation. There were a few grim chuckles from the older, more seasoned officers seated around the table. Most had been on the force for years and were well aware of Joe Hardy's antics and penchant for attracting trouble.

"Okay then what DO we have?" asked Officer Herndon.

"We know that they are close, and not in Jersey. Maybe the City but that is doubtful." Frank spoke up for the first time.

Herndon was confused. "How do we know that?"

"The time stamps on the photographs. They are for roughly a 90 minute period that commenced at 0430 ish. The alarm tripped at 0213. That means it was less than 2 hours between the time Joe was taken and they began.." Frank choked a little as the words wouldn't come. He visibly shook himself before continuing. "Also we know that at 0730, when I arrived at the office, there was no envelope. It was delivered sometime between then and 1000 when Dad arrived."

Sam took up the narrative. "Vincente owns a lot of property within a reasonable commuting distance. We can eliminate some locations outright. Some are empty lots, others are commercial; storefronts, that sort of thing. Too much traffic. What we are probably looking for is an office or warehouse, maybe secluded or unused."

"So you need us to canvass all the remaining locations, is that it?" Herndon asked.

"That about sums it up, yeah. Frank and I will head back to the office in the meantime. Look but do not engage. Anything that seems out of place, call it in. Vincente may be civilized and urbane on the surface, but his people are _not_ and have no problems killing cops. So be careful."

The meeting broke up then and everyone went their separate ways. Sam and Frank got back in Sam's car and started for the office downtown. Luckily it was only a few streets away so neither man felt the need to break the awkward silence. Frank preceded Sam into the building's cozy foyer but stopped short as he reached the office door. Taped very neatly with a torn piece of the yellow crime scene tape that criss crossed the doorway was an envelope addressed to Fenton. This was one was fatter and was of the type used to mail fragile items with the bubble wrap. He couldn't bring himself to grab it. But Sam did not hesitate. He unlocked the door, and stepped through the tape into the airy reception area. Nothing had been touched here by the kidnappers, so it was minimally disturbed.

Sam emptied the envelope of its' contents. First thing that fell out was Joe's wallet and keys. Everything was intact, including all the money he had. Second was a mini recordable disc, the kind you used in digital movie cameras. And third, which had to be pulled out, was a single sheet of paper also addressed to Fenton. Sam unfolded the note and read it aloud.

_'Mr Hardy. You know what I want. The name of the traitor in my midst. Your son was foolish enough to get in the way of my employees. He has paid dearly for that mistake. The longer I wait, the worse it will be for him. I enclose a little reminder of just exactly how seriously I take this. I trust you will consider the life of young Joe to be worth more than your reputation as a trustworthy PI. After all, you are an honorable man. Family is so important, don't you think? I will be waiting.'_

It was signed simply "Vincente"

Frank's face was ashen. He knew, as did Sam, what was on that disc. And neither man wanted to watch it although they knew they had to. There could be a clue as to Joe's whereabouts on it. Sam placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. "I can do this alone. You don't need to watch."

Frank vehemently shook his head. "No. I have to see. I promised Mom I'd bring him home."

Sam kept his misgivings to himself. He wasn't entirely convinced Frank could handle what was on that disc. Hell he wasn't sure _he _could. Both boys were like his own sons. But he was well aware that a vital clue to Joe's whereabouts might be on that disc and no mater how painful it was going to be to watch it, he knew it was nothing compared to the pain that Joe endured, and was most likely still enduring.

Frank went and grabbed their own video recorder and hooked it up to the computer so they could watch it on the monitor. Sam inserted the disc, not bothering to worry about fingerprints . Not only did they know who was responsible already, they also knew that there would be no incrimination evidence left behind. At best they could hope the CSI team could extract background noises or enhance the images. But that would come later. First they would watch it alone. Sam gave Frank a concerned look before he asked " Are you sure about this?"

Frank grimly said "Just play it."

The video started innocuously enough. Joe was shackled to chains suspended from the ceiling. He was bare chested and both men winced at the strain his arms were obviously under as he twisted around. The light was dim so much of the time Joe's face was in shadow. Frank gasped in horror when another figure stepped into the camera's angle "Is that..a cat o'nine tails?" he choked out in disbelief.

Sam shuddered at the look of calm deliberation on the face of the man wielding the ancient torture device. That was worse than any rage or inhuman glee that could have appeared. Like Vincente, Dominic Mazzola was cold and calculating, which made him supremely dangerous when it came to inflicting pain. His brother Luigi, whom Sam assumed was the one behind the camera, was equally to be feared. They enjoyed their work, but never took too much pleasure in it. They knew exactly what each of their victim's limits were and skirted the edge of going beyond it with finely tuned precision.

The first lash whistled through the air and Frank gasped in unison with his brother on screen. By the time the third blow was struck, Joe was screaming and Frank ran to the bathroom where he was violently ill. Sam paused the disc and stood in the doorway as Frank lost the contents of his stomach. Sam was also feeling queasy but forced himself to remain standing.

It took several minutes for the heaving to stop. Sam went out to the fridge and returned with a bottle of water, offering it silently to the pale figure slumped on the floor resting a flushed forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet. Frank reached a shaking hand up and took the bottle gasping out a hoarse "Thanks" before taking a swig. He also accepted the proffered hand that helped him stand up straight.

Frank turned a grey face to his father's oldest friend and said "We have to finish watching it." Sam gripped Frank's arm in silent support and led him back to the desk. This time, he muted the sound before pressing the play button. It was going to be bad enough watching. Having to listen was too much to ask right now. He'd just make sure to have the sound techs note everything later.

The disc recorded the entire session, all 90 minutes. By the time it was over, Sam was beside himself with rage and resolve. Frank was dangerously close to catatonic until Sam touched his shoulder. Like his Father, Frank was slow to anger but had just as violent a temper as any male in his family. It exploded now, causing Sam to take a step back to avoid the wildly swinging arm. "FRANK!" he shouted, grabbing the hysterical man by both upper arms and giving a strong shake. " Pull yourself together! You have to **focus**. You can't help Joe if you go off the deep end." It was Joe's name that broke through his incoherent rage and allowed Frank to take a deep shuddering breath and calm down.

Frank was suddenly exhausted both mentally and physically. He staggered over to the chair and collapsed into it, burying his face in his hands and letting the sobs come, heedless of anything or anyone else. Sam let him cry it out, and unashamedly let his own tears fall. He wasn't sure if Frank truly understood the gravity of the situation, but Sam was all too aware that the minute that disc had been recorded, Joe's fate had been sealed. There was no way that Vincente would let Joe live, not even if they did provide the name he so politely requested. It was how the man operated. He owed Fenton a loss of his own to compensate for those years in prison and what better way than to deprive him of a beloved son? Joe's last and only hope lay with his brother and himself. If they were unable to discover where he was being held captive, and within the next 24 hours, Fenton would wake up in the hospital minus one child. Sam was not about to let that happen. And he sure as hell was not going to face Laura Hardy without anything other than the news that her fair haired youngest was safe.

Eventually, Frank got his act together and straightened up and looked Sam in the eye. His face was still blotchy with tears and his eyes red rimmed, but they were clear now, free of rage or despair. In a calm voice that was only slightly tinged with pain he asked "What do we do now? The only one who knew the name of the mole was Dad and he's in no shape to be asking questions of right now."

"I'm not sure." Sam admitted. At the time he had been fine with Fenton keeping certain aspects of the case to himself, but now he desperately wished he had a bargaining chip to negotiate for Joe. He knew without a doubt that even if it meant he'd never be able to work as a PI again, Fenton would give up his informant in half a heartbeat to save his son. He also knew that it would literally kill his partner if they couldn't save Joe.

"Look, it's late. We are both exhausted and can't think straight right now let alone do any good. Let's get some sleep and tackle this in the morning." Sam forestalled the protest that was about to spring from Frank's lips. "We can't do anything until this disc is analyzed. I'll drop it off at the Station. The tech guys will work on it while we get some rest."

Sam ejected the disc and replaced it back in the envelope it was delivered in as well as the letter. He'd drop both items off before heading home himself. "Can I drop you off at your place?" Frank shook his head.

"I...I want to stay upstairs tonight." Frank's voice still held that tremor of pain but Sam let it pass without comment. He reached over and took Frank's shoulders in hand, forcing the younger man to look up. "Get some rest. You need to be 100% if you are going to save your brother." He knew enough to not spout off platitudes like 'he'll be fine' when it was so blatantly obvious that Joe was anything but. Frank nodded silently but Sam didn't buy the meek act for a second. Of course he was being pretty hypocritical himself as he was certain he'd get no rest either. With a final squeeze of shoulders, Sam was out the door and on the way to the Precinct where he dropped off the disc to Officer Herndon with the request that they pull out all the stops and get that thing analyzed immediately. Herndon reiterated Con Reilly's earlier promise that the entire department was at the beck and call of Hardy and Sons. Sam thanked the young Officer and went on his way.

Frank, meanwhile, used Joe's keys and went upstairs to his younger brother's apartment. He needed to surround himself with reminders of his blond sibling. Even though it was after 7 pm, he called Dr Suitland's office and left a message that he was going to have to cancel his next several appointments. He'd explain in the morning when he was certain the receptionist Mary would be calling to get the reason why. He puttered around the apartment, still surprised even after 2 years at the neatness and order that Joe brought back with him from his time in the Navy. It was a far cry from the sloppy disorganized chaos he endured growing up sharing a bathroom. It was almost alien how uncluttered the place was. So alien in fact that Frank couldn't stand to be there one more minute. He took off, grabbing Joe's keys and picking his brother's SUV out in the dim light of the parking lot. He drove on automatic and was not even remotely shocked to find himself at the cliffs. Joe was right. The sounds of the waves did help. They were soothing and at the same time reflected the turmoil of emotions boiling up inside. Despite his earlier assumption he would get no rest, he fell asleep to the sounds of the crashing water and slept through the night leaned up against the boulder that Joe had so often used himself. It was barely dawn when his cell jangled in his pocket. It was Sam calling to say that he had heard from Herndon and the disc had been analyzed.

"I need to take a shower and change but I'll meet you at the station in an hour?" Frank asked. Sam acknowledged the timetable and said he'd bring the bagels. Frank immediately got into the SUV and drove back to his brother's apartment where he took a 5 minute shower before changing into some clothes that he kept on a spare rod in the closet for emergencies. Before he took off again, he called his mother to inform her they had some new information and to inquire how his father was doing. Laura had evidently calmed down as she was her usual self and issued no more ultimatums although she did beg her eldest to be careful. Frank assured her that every precaution was being taken and promised to call if he got more news. In no time he was back at the Station and asked att he desk where he would find Herndon and the others. He was directed to the same meeting room that had been used the night before.

Sam was already there as were most of the same faces from last night. Con Reilly again took the lead.

"Well I used up the entire month's worth of overtime budget but it was worth it. My guys in the lab were able to discern several distinct background noises that led to the railroad tracks. Cross referencing train schedules with the time stamp on the disc we have it narrowed down to the outskirts of town by the old foundry. Vincente owns 3 buildings within a 5 mile radius. One we can eliminate outright, the junkyard. It's open to the public and does fairly steady business. Legitimate business in fact. So he won't risk that by allowing illicit activity on the property; as far as we can tell not even stolen cars end up there. That leaves two." Con walked over the large map of the area that had been pinned to the wall. There were two push pins indicating the prospective targets. With a purple Sharpie he circled the first. "This is the most likely place and where we will survey first. 3 story building, no windows on the first 2 floors, which are given over to storage and warehouse space. The third floor is offices for one of Vincente's dummy companies." Putting down the purple Sharpie he replaced it with a bright blue one and circled the other push pin. "Less likely is this one. It is, or was, a factory that produced some whatsit or other. This one is only 2 floors but it is also mostly one giant room with only a few offices taking up half the second story. As far as we can tell by business records it is currently dark. We'll hit both at the same time. Any questions?"

One of the officers spoke up. Neither Frank nor Sam recognized him. "What about that note? Why not bargain for time by giving the guy what he wants?"

Sam shook his head. "Even if we wanted to, we can't. The only one who knows is Fenton and he's still sedated. And it isn't like Vincente bothered to give us his cell phone number so we could make an offer." Sam's tone grew sarcastic. "There was no way in hell that giving up the information would have made a difference. He is going to let Joe die no matter what we do. Which is why we have to get there first."

There were grim faces all around the table at that announcement. Everyone knew the stakes. And everyone vowed that Joe Hardy would _not_ die this day.

Frank had been silent this whole time, rarely even raising his head to look at anyone. He was still badly shaken over the images he had seen the night before and was eternally grateful Con saw no reason to replay the disc at the meeting. He spent most of the meeting lost in his own thoughts. His outburst the night before echoed in the back of his mind, vaguely reminding him of the incident at the mine shaft a couple of months earlier. He was in danger of losing it completely. His mother's accusation and Sam equally disapproving demeanor had jolted him out of his self pity, but he still had a long way to go. And he finally admitted to himself that he could not recover without Joe's help.

(_Hang on, baby brother_) he thought to himself, using a term of endearment he hadn't used in ten years. (_I'm coming. Just hang on a little while longer._) Frank was brought back to the here and now by Con's final words. "So we will gear up and head out to the targets. I want every one ready in 2 hours to move." There was a general scratching of chairs across the tiled floor as everyone stood up and began to gather their notes. Frank didn't move and it wasn't until everyone else had left that Sam and Con both resumed their seats and waited for him to say something.

"I know I haven't been much help..." he began.

"That's understandable, Frank." Con replied kindly.

Frank shook his head. "No, I screwed up in more ways than I can count. But I want you to know you can count on me being rational going forward. I just want my brother safe. I don't give a damn about anything else. That includes bringing in Vincente or the Mazzolas. Hope that's okay with you."

Sam and Con exchanged a look. The unspoken conversation lasted about ten seconds before Sam nodded and said "Joe is the priority. Nothing will jeopardize that. We can get them some other time."

Frank gave each man a grateful look in turn before standing up himself and saying "I am going to call Mom, let her know what's up." and he left the room to find a quiet corner to make his call.

The next two hours both flew by and dragged. In addition to his mother, Frank had also called all their mutual friends to ask that they stop by the hospital to give Laura any support or help she needed. To a man their boyhood friends did not hesitate. Tony promised enough food to feed the entire Cardiac Care Unit, while Biff and Phil said they'd take care of the house and office. Chet was already out the door headed towards the hospital to sit with Laura before he finished talking to Frank. They all wished him luck in finding Joe and begged for updates as soon as possible.

It was a grim group of Police officers in full tactical gear that met in the garage by the two SWAT vans that would take each team to their respective assignments. Sam and Frank were also in bullet proof vests and carried their own weapons. Con gave last minute instructions to Officer Herndon, who was leading the assault on the old factory before getting in his cruiser with Sam and Frank and ordering his driver to head out.

It was about a 45 minute drive and each man spent it lost in their own thoughts. When they arrived, Frank _knew_ they were in the right place. It was that gut feeling he would always get in situations like this. Joe's gut feelings seemed to center around whether or not a person was trustworthy, but Frank's was always about the location being right or wrong. And Frank's gut was working over time. "This is the place" he breathed softly, hand gripped so tightly around his drawn gun it was white. Neither Sam nor Con deigned to express skepticism over his certainty. Too many years spent witnessing that eerie connection the two brothers had with each other.

Con sent one of the SWAT team members to scope out a higher vantage point, while also directing the rest to block the entrances to the building. "Sam, Frank, you're with me until we get confirmation."

Both men nodded and crouched behind a large dumpster that was located near the rear entrance. They waited for what seemed an eternity to Frank before the crackle of Con's radio alerted them. "Chief. Definitely both Mazzola brothers. No sign of Vincente. I get one more heat signature on the lower level. No visual confirmation but the profile indicates he's suspended."

Frank knew that meant whoever that was, they were hanging, just like the video had shown Joe to be. "Let's _**go**_" He ground out through his teeth.

Sam placed a firm hand on Frank's arm. "Not yet. Let the rest get into position." Frank glared at him but for the first time in a long while kept his temper in check. He turned to Con and waited for the Chief to give the word.

It took another 7 minutes before everyone else had confirmed they were ready. By then Frank was about ready to jump out of his skin and was already on the move by the time Con gave the 'Go' order.

**A/n:** _What, you expected the cavalry to ride over the hill already? Still needs more angsty bits from Joe. _


	11. Chapter 11

**A/n:** _proof that werewolves do not have a monopoly on obsessive inner monologuing. yes more graphic stuff, even if some is implied. not for the squeamish or those who do not wish the Blond One to be too brutalized._

**Chapter Ten**

Joe had long since lost track of time. He'd also lost all sense of feeling in his wrists and shoulders, while his back was on fire. His throat was raw and dry as he had not received any water, let alone food, since he was taken downstairs after his meeting with his 'host'. He had no idea what day it was, let alone what time. In other words, he was feeling pretty damn crappy. His mental status vacillated between despair and exasperation. It just didn't seem fair, you know? He had no idea who this Vincente character was, other than one scary SOB. And yet the guy was willing to kill him. And he had the strangest feeling it wasn't your usual revenge thing either. None of the usual 'I am gonna make your daddy pay for what he did to me' theatrics. Oh sure, Fenton's name had been part of the conversation, but Joe was quite convinced that if he had slept through the alarm, or not gone downstairs at all, or waited for the cops to show, he would not be literally hanging around at the moment.

He would have sighed if he could take a deep enough breath. Hindsight being 20/20 and all that. (_This is no lunger funny. Frank, where the hell are you?_) Joe pleaded for the Nth time since his ordeal began. He still wasn't convinced Frank wasn't so wrapped up in his own problems that he'd take the time to find him. (_This is what I get for asking him to back off. Literally left hung out to dry. You, Joseph Aaron Hardy, are a complete idiot sometimes, you know that?_)

If he had any tears left, Joe knew he'd be weeping. It was small consolation that after that first session with the Mazzolas he'd been left alone. (_Once was plenty, thankyewverymuch. Who the hell uses a freaking cat o' nine tails anyway?_) The problem with being left alone is now he half convinced he had been abandoned and left to die. Okay, two thirds convinced. There were still vague noises coming from outside his cell. At this point, Joe wasn't sure if he preferred being left alone, or another visit from his jailers. He couldn't decide which was worse, being abandoned, or being tortured.

The noises grew louder and more distinct. When he heard the click of a key in the lock, Joe tensed. (_Please let it be room service! I could really go for a ham sandwich right now. Or roast beef. Roast beef's good. With Mom's homemade Russian dressing. Lettuce and tomato. Slice of cheese. Potato chips. The rippled ones.) _He groaned and would have drooled if there was any saliva to be found. He was facing away from the door so had no idea what was coming. Could be a bullet to the back of his head. Or another 30 lashes. He wasn't so far gone as to delude himself that it was a rescue. For one thing, he figured Frank would be all Big Brother-y and scream out his name when he saw his predicament. Equally possible was Dad bursting in with guns a blazin'. (Y_eah. Who am I kidding?_) No, the more likely scenario was he was about to get the crap beat out of him again. (_Maybe I'll get lucky and it will only take 10 minutes to pass out this time._)

He could hear two sets of footsteps behind him but deigned to acknowledge their presence, feeling decidedly antisocial at the moment. In front of him was an old rickety table that had been dragged in before and had once held a variety of whips that had been used on him previously. Luigi lumbered into his eyeline carrying a car battery. (_Oh hell. So not liking the implications of __that_.) The man heaved the battery onto the table, which wobbled slightly before turning around and grabbing Joe by the hair and pulling his head up and looking intently at his face.

"Thought you might want to know. Heard from our contact at the Bayport Precinct. Seems the only person who has the info the Boss wants is currently occupying a bed in the CCU at Bayport General and is heavily sedated. Apparently this heart attack was pretty severe." The words were spoken matter of factly, no malice or cruel glee in the tone. But the words struck Joe's own heart as he understood just who exactly the swarthy man was talking about. He couldn't help it, he groaned as the information sunk in. (_Dad? Nononono please no._). In the back of his mind he was vaguely aware of the distinction between _CCU _and _Morgue_ but that was of very little consolation. His only hope now lie with Frank, who had not exactly been his usual Big Brother Self lately. Once upon a time, if anyone had suggested that Frank would abandon him for any reason whatsoever he would have denied it vehemently before decking them for even suggesting such a thing. Today? Not so much.

Luigi seemed to gain no satisfaction or pleasure in delivering such an emotionally crippling blow, but neither was he inclined to offer sympathy or condolences either. He left Joe to his own devices once again, but returned within minutes. This time he carried a long stick like object with a bronze tip and a large coil of electrical wire.

(_Screw it. Gonna die anyway, what else is there to do but go down swinging?_) "What the hell is that?" Joe rasped out, his voice still hoarse from his earlier screaming and continued lack of water.

"This?" Luigi asked, holding the device under Joe's nose. "Called a picana. Dom picked it up in Buenos Aires or something a few years ago. Nasty piece of work, too. You thought yesterday was bad? You ain't seen nuttin' yet, kid." the voice held a trace of Joisey accent that would have had Joe smirking any other time. He turned away and began attaching the wire to to both the picana and the car battery.

Joe decided to go for broke. "Howsabout some water before we get better acquainted with each other, hmm? Wouldn't want me dying of dehydration too soon, would ya?"

Luigi gave a small chuckle, showing those tobacco stained teeth. "You got balls kid; I give ya that. But if I were you, I'd be careful what I wished for. Might backfire on ya."

Before Joe could ask what the hell he meant with that comment, he was doused from behind with a bucket of ice cold water. As Joe sputtered, gasping for breath, Dom came around from behind with the now empty bucket. Dom didn't talk much, but he wore the same carefully neutral face as his brother. (A_t least they don't gloat_) Joe thought with a mental snort of derision.

"Told ya." Luigi smirked. "Ever been electrocuted, kid?"

All Joe could do was shudder, both from the shock of the ice cold water and the realization of what was about to happen. (_Frank? Needing a little help here, Big Bro. I hate that I am doubting you. I never used to. What the hell happened between us?_) No answer was forthcoming, and Joe had to suppress a sob of despair as Dom came nearer with the picana.

It was beyond excruciating. The ice cold water served to conduct the electricity easier and the chills he got from being soaking wet didn't make things any easier. He couldn't even scream it hurt so badly. Mercifully, it also made it damned hard for him to breathe so he actually passed out from lack of oxygen after about 5 minutes. They left him alone after that, for who knows how long. Joe spent the time in a daze, not really coherent and too far gone to care. His thoughts, when he was cognizant of having any, seemed to dwell on death. He relived Iola's murder a hundred times, each one bringing a fresh wave of loneliness and pain. His Aunt Gertrude's stroke when she was in her 80s. His father's heart attack(s). His own brushes with death as a teenager, and once while on the deck of his ship when a Helicopter landed wrong. Frank's close calls.

Frank. It always came down to Frank. Big Brother Extraordinaire. Best Friend a guy could ask for. Confidant. Protector. Pain in the Rear. A little slow sometimes, especially with the saving of his favorite little brother's sorry behind. (_Assuming I am still your favorite. I'd give anything f you were to come barreling through the door right now. I don't give a damn about Mike either. You wanna keep mum, that's fine by me. Just get me the hell OUT of here. I will never ever ask you to tell me what happened. I can't hold out any longer. I can't do this any more. Frank? Are you there?_)

Unfortunately the sound of the door opening that intruded upon his bleary internal musings heralded the return of the Mazzola brothers and not his own sibling. Joe could no longer keep up the snark, internally or otherwise. He was finished. No hope, no faith, no belief that he was the world's luckiest SOB and would survive. This time nobody said a word. Luigi ripped the shreds of his flannel lounge bottoms completely off and exposed all of Joe's attributes. Joe couldn't even muster up any mental shame. Not that it looked like the Mazzolas were interested in that sort of thing. Or were they? Funnily enough, with all the other physical abuse they'd left his face pretty much alone after the initial 2 slaps in Vincente's office so he could see all too well when Dom hooked the picana up again to the battery and aimed it down there. Dom spoke up, casually, as if he were discussing the weather. "The guy I got this from had a few favorite spots. Bottom of the foot, a woman's nipples, a man's..." and he touched the live device to the most sensitive part of the male anatomy.

Anything Joe had felt before paled in comparison. Not the first beating with the cat o'nine tails and other whips. Not the earlier session with the picana. Not any other punishment or infliction of pain in all his 20 some odd years of life. Getting shot? 3 times? Felt like a damned paper cut compared to the utter agony that ripped through his entire body. He twisted so hard that he dislocated his shoulder trying to evade the device. All it took was 15 seconds of contact. He didn't even have time to make so much as a whimper before he passed out again. Luigi slipped Dom a c-note and said "Dayum. I coulda swore he was tougher than that. I was sure he'd last 30 seconds minimum."

Dom just chuckled as he disconnected the wire and tossed the picana back on the table. "Check his pulse."

Luigi pressed two beefy fingers against Joe's neck and felt the thready pulse that was skittering along irregularly. "Meh. He can give his Old Man a run for his money on the heart attack front I think." He stood back and critically looked at the silent figure still gently swaying in front of him. "Should I cut loose his legs? Or let him down? That shoulder is grossing me out."

Dom shook his head. "Nah, leave him. He won't notice. Besides, I'm hungry."

Joe Hardy was left alone to his fate.

**A/n: **_Yes there is such a thing as a picana. luckily the last recorded use was in the early 1930's. at least officially. and yes Frank does his Big Brother Hero thing next chapter. You may begin rejoicing now. Hopefully it will be up by the end of the weekend. _


	12. Chapter 12

**A/n:** _yay! Frank saves the day! _

**Chapter Eleven**

Con spoke into his microphone "Go! Go! Go!" Frank was up and moving before the third "Go!" with Sam just a step or two behind. They headed toward the side entrance which was closest to the corner of the building where the heat signature had been reported. At the same time, the other unit was breaking down the main entrance and the guys who had managed to climb up to the roof rappelled back down and through the windows that had been blown out with tear gas canisters by yet another SWAT officer. It was a carefully orchestrated dance that had been practiced hundreds of times before. Had Frank been paying any attention whatsoever, he would have been impressed by the fluidity of motion the entire assault had. As it was, Frank was focused on one thing only, getting through the hallway and to the door he thought his brother might be behind. Vaguely, he heard shouts and gun fire upstairs, the familiar rat a tat of the SWAT Team's semi automatic weapons as well as pistol shots from what he surmised was the Mazzola Brothers.

Firmly Frank ignored the cacophony upstairs, he would let Con Reilley's people handle the brothers. His sights were set on only one brother.. his own. Sam moved silently beside him, Con bringing up the rear and providing backup. Despite having intel that indicated Joe was alone, they were taking no chances. There were three doors along the hallway that were likely candidates. The first was unlocked but devoid of their target. The second door too was empty although they had to kick that door in first. While Frank and Con each stood on either side, Sam positioned himself in front of the third door. (_Third time's the charm, and Lord knows Joe Hardy has led a charmed life._) he thought as he lifted his right leg and gave a powerful kick just below the handle. The door burst open with a satisfying splintering sound and banged sharply against the wall before bouncing back and nearly flattening Frank's nose as he was already on the move before Sam had gotten his foot back down.

He didn't get far as Sam roughly grabbed his shoulder with his free hand and hissed "Slow down! Check for booby traps!" Frank stopped short, almost toppling over in his abruptness. He swept his gaze around, aiming at the floor but saw nothing that would indicate any sort of trip wire. The floor was wet, however, so he stepped very carefully further into the room. His attention was still elsewhere when he heard the sharp gasp and the low, guttural "Sonuvabitch" from Con's lips that forced his own eyes upward and towards the center of the room.

"Oh, gawd, Joe" Frank's voice cracked as he whispered the half prayer, half invective. All other considerations forgotten, he and Sam rushed forward and reached the unconscious blond at roughly the same time, while behind them Frank heard Con barking orders into his microphone for the EMTs to get their asses inside _now_. Sam whipped out his Gerber and bent down to cut the rope that had been keeping Joe's legs from swinging freely. By then Con was over by the winch that was attached to Joe's shackles. Indicating that they should grab the younger Hardy, Con slowly ratcheted the winch until the chain was slack and Joe's arms flopped down, hitting Frank in the head as they were finally released from their torment.

Frank had situated his own arms around Joe's waist, shuddering at the sensation of wet, sticky blood he felt on his brother's back. Sam supported Joe's head to prevent it from snapping backward. Frank ever so carefully, slowly, and gently eased down to the floor, supporting Joe's full weight as he did so. He was kneeling, Joe leaned up against him. His brother was shivering uncontrollably, from cold or shock or something else, he didn't know, or care at the moment. He could feel his brother's heart beating frenetically but the rhythm felt wrong. "I'm here, Bro. I've got you." he whispered softly into his brother's hair as he held him closely, knowing that it would do little good as he had far too many clothes on while Joe had far too few. Sam was on the other side crouched as close as possible without actually touching Joe, but hoping he was radiating some body heat that would help.

It seemed an eternity before the EMTs came running in, but in reality it was less than 3 minutes. Sam moved out of the way to allow them space to work, But Frank refused to relinquish the hold he had on his brother until Con's hand on his shoulder and the quiet "Let them do their thing Frank" pierced his singleminded intensity enough for him to once again be aware of his surroundings. Reluctantly, Frank allowed one EMT to take his place as Joe's support. They laid a blanket on the cold concrete floor before laying Joe down on his stomach to take vitals. However, as the one had the stethoscope up to Joe's chest, Joe gave a shudder and started seizing. Con grabbed Frank by the shoulders and roughly hauled him back, as he had instinctively lunged toward his brother. Frank fought it for only a second before he slumped backwards against Con's chest. The Police Chief wrapped a comforting arm around the dark haired brother's shoulders as they all watched the EMTs react with a speed that was quite remarkable. One immediately flipped Joe over onto his side, while the other kept his airway open. Mercifully, it lasted only a minute or so and as soon as he had stopped, the two EMTs lifted him up onto the gurney, strapping him in still on his side. As they hefted the gurney up to allow the automatic extension of the legs, Frank broke free of Con's embrace and rushed to his brother, grabbing an unresponsive hand tightly. One EMT tried to shoo him away but was stopped by both Con and Sam. "Don't even bother trying. He's going with you in the back of the ambulance. No use arguing or quoting policy or regulations." Con gave a small ironic laugh. "Been trying for 15 years. Hasn't worked yet." The EMT looked quizzically at the two older men, then shrugged and said "Fine, but stay outta the way."

As the gurney was being wheeled out of the room and down the hall, Sam stayed back with Con. "Need any help?"

"Nah, I got it. I'll clean up here. Meet you at the hospital later." Con was already walking towards the entrance, asking for reports from his people via his radio.

Sam lingered a little longer, paying closer attention to the room's contents. His lips thinned and his eyes tightened when he saw what looked like a damn half sized cattle prod on the table, complete with car battery power source. He sure as hell hoped Frank never saw it. If he had, that old saying about Hell having no fury? Would be rewritten. And he'd help. As it was he knew it would take the combined efforts of every authority figure Frank respected to keep him from going off half cocked after Vincente. As he walked away toward the entrance, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed. " Put me through to Fenton Hardy's room, please" he asked the cheerful voice on the other end. A few clicks later and Laura Hardy answered the in room phone. "Hey Laura. How is he doing?" he asked, mentally steeling himself for the impending delivery of his own news.

Laura's tinny voice came over the airwaves, sounding tired and strained. "He's hanging in there, but they won't take him off sedation yet. Joe?" she half pleaded.

Sam took a deep breath. He always hated upsetting the tiny blond woman, especially when it came to her menfolk. "On the the way to the hospital now. Frank's with him. Laura, it's..." he faltered.

Laura's alarmed voice interrupted his pause "Tell me Sam!"

"Joe had a seizure when we got to him. I don't know why. You should meet them at the ER. Frank is going to be stubborn." Sam didn't have to heart to tell her of Joe's other injures , or the fact that he was naked when they found him. Some things, you just don't tell the Mother. No matter what. Laura immediately said she was on her way downstairs and thank Sam before hanging up.

It was awkward walking half sideways but there was no way in hell Frank was going to let go of Joe's hand for anything less than another seizure. The two EMTs took a look at each other and silently shook their heads. They had seen everything from hysterical family members to people who blatantly tried to kill the patient, but never before had they witnessed such..intensity. Frank was quiet the entire way to the ambulance but jumped up into the back of the rig and helped them lift it before settling back down on one of the benches. One of the EMTs climbed in back while the second closed the doors then went around front and got in the driver's seat.

Joe was facing Frank, which allowed the other EMT to begin examining his back. The EMT, a young guy no more than 22, sucked air through his teeth as he got a closer look. "What?" Frank said sharply.

The EMT shook his head and said "Never seen anything like this before. Some of the marks expose muscle or tendon. Won't know how extensive the damage is until they can get him cleaned up and evaluate. This is way beyond my paygrade. You two close?"

"He's my brother." Frank spoke so softly the other guy almost didn't hear him over the sound of the ambulance siren blaring. "Why did he have a seizure?"

"Not sure although if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say electrolyte imbalance caused by severe dehydration. I need to set up an IV. Steady his arm while I hook him up, would you?" Frank nodded and placed his free hand on Joe's arm, letting the EMT have both hands free to set up the Saline drip. It took a few tries for him to find a vein since he was so dehydrated. "Another couple of hours, and you woulda been too late, I think. He's going to need a lot of fluids." Truer words were never spoken as by the time they got to the hospital not 15 minutes later, a second bag of saline had to be hung.

Laura was at the main entrance the ER, shivering in the light drizzle that was falling but refused to wait inside. As the door to the ambulance opened from within, she stepped forward crying out her son's name. "Joe!"

Frank was first to jump down from the back of the rig and gave his mother a perfunctory hug before turning around and grabbing the end of the gurney and stepping backward letting the legs automatically extend. The driver came around and said "I've got it. You go on inside." Frank placed his arm around his mother's shoulders and gently steered her inside.

They wasted no time getting Joe into an exam room. After years of experience, neither Frank nor Laura pushed the issue when they were stopped at the great swinging doors that led into past the waiting area. Frank collapsed wearily into a hard plastic seat and leaned back, stretching his long legs in front of him and closing his eyes. He knew his mother would be asking for details but he wasn't sure he wanted to tell her everything. He sure as hell didn't want to tell her the condition he had been found in. It was going to be bad enough discussing his visible injuries.

Laura sat beside him and laid a cold hand on his knee. "Sam said that Joe had a seizure?" she asked.

"When did you talk to Sam? Is he here?" Frank exclaimed, sitting upright with a jerk.

"He called, dear. Told me to meet you down here. I think he will be by later. That's the impression I got."

Frank leaned back again but this time he clasped his mother's hand. "Yeah. Don't know why but the EMT said it might be due to dehydration." he looked sideways at her. "Has Dad woken up yet?"

"No. They won't take him off the sedation yet. Frank, I want the truth. What happened to your brother?"

Frank took a deep shuddering breath, reliving those first awful seconds when he had found Joe. "We found him in a room by himself. He's been..." a sob escaped his throat. " He's been whipped, Mom. Badly. His whole back is covered in welts." He saw no reason to elaborate further, or mention Joe's lack of clothing or that fact that he had been found hanging by his wrists above the floor. Like Sam, he too was loathe to be too explicit. Laura had been through enough. No need to add to her dismay.

Laura suspected that he was leaving some things out but chose to let it slide. It was enough that Joe was found and alive. For now. She was not quite ready to offer full forgiveness, but she couldn't stay mad forever and pulled her eldest son into an embrace as they held each other and worried over father, son and brother. Both settled in for what they knew would be a long wait.

After maybe an hour, Sam arrived looking grimly pleased. Laura had fallen asleep in her chair so Frank very carefully stood up and went to the man who had been his father's friend and partner for over twenty years. "Both Mazzolas are dead. Con's people caught them with their pants down. There was no indication Vincente was even there at any time. We won't be able to legally connect him unless we find his fingerprints on any of the stuff used on Joe." Frank snorted in derision at the absurdity of _that _ ever happening. Sam glanced over to the drowsing Laura and grasped Frank by the upper arm as he stepped further away so she could not overhear what he was about to say next.

Sam took a deep breath. "After you took off with Joe, and Con went to mop up, I took a look around the room. There wasn't just whips, Frank. There was also this, I dunno, looked like a cattle prod, hooked up to a car battery. I think Joe's been electrocuted."

Frank staggered back and would have fallen if Sam had not caught him. That could explain Joe's frenetic heartbeat when they first found him, and maybe even the seizure. "We have to let the doctor working on him know!" Frank rushed over to the main desk and told the Nurse there what he had just learned. She immediately went behind back to inform the team who was back there with Joe. About 20 minutes later, a middle aged woman with greying brown hair and glasses came out and asked of the room at large "Hardy?" Frank, Sam and Laura all jumped to their feet and stood in front of her.

"I'm Dr. Meadows. I've been taking care of Joe. Are you family?"

Laura spoke up "I'm his mother and this is my other son, Frank" she indicated with her hand. Frank nodded in greeting while Laura continued "And Mr Radley is my husband's partner and also a very close friend." Sam gave his own nod.

"Why don't we come into my office and we can talk, Okay?" The Doctor invited them to follow her down a short hallway and into a large cheery office that was equal parts sterile medical environment and homey reminders of the doctor's young family. She invited them all to sit down, pulling a third chair over from a table in the corner for Sam.

"First I want to reassure you that Joe is stable and will most likely make a full recovery. In fact I doubt there will even be a need for skin grafts, although you will want to let a dermatologist make the final determination." At that news, delivered with a smile all three let the tension they were holding on to go with audible sighs. "Can you tell me how he came by these injuries?"

Frank spoke up. "Our father is a Private Investigator. Joe lives above the office and interrupted a break in. He was kidnapped by the intruders. He'd been missing a couple of days before Sam and I found him." at this point Sam picked up the narrative.

"There were several whips, including a cat o'nine tails and ..umm another device..." he broke off, not wanting Laura to hear the rest. Laura , however proved that she was no shrinking violet and told Sam to continue and not worry about her at all. "It looked like a cattle prod, although much smaller. It was attached to a car battery with wires."

Dr Meadows nodded. "When you sent back that information, Mr Hardy, we did some more tests. Joe did indeed receive electrical shocks. High voltage ones, in fact, but the current was low enough that it did no permanent damage to his heart although we detected very small burns at the points of contact." Here Dr Meadow's face grew somber. "A couple of spots on his chest, one buttock and.." Now it was her turn to pause, but Laura's steely voice told her to spare nothing. "His genitals..."

Laura's hand sought that of her eldest and she squeezed it so hard he gasped in pain but did not pull away. "What else" Laura said, her voice remarkably calm although laced with pain.

Dr Meadows continued. "One shoulder was dislocated. That's been re positioned and taped up. He is severely dehydrated and that most likely contributed to the seizure although he has not had another since being admitted so I think we are out of the woods in that regard. He's also borderline malnourished, but he's young, fit and obviously normally has a good appetite" Here she smiled and received three identical wan ones in return before continuing "So once he wakes up I see no reason not to feed him whatever he requests." she paused once again, taking stock of the three people in front of her. They were obviously no strangers to situations like this. Worry radiated off each of them in waves yet they all held themselves together remarkably well. "I have sent him upstairs to the Burn Unit." She was met with shocked looks from all three.

"What? I thought you said they were mild burns?" Frank half shouted.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry to have alarmed you. The burns he sustained barely qualify as first degree. But his back is another story. We have special beds in the Burn Unit that eliminate the normal pressure points when lying down. Due to his shoulder, and the fact that we do need to keep him on a heart monitor for at least a little while longer, he cannot be placed on his stomach. In order to minimize the amount of pressure on his back, I have sent him up there. He will likely be able to be moved in a day or so when he wakes up. But right now he's sedated and I want to keep him under another day, just to give his body time to rest. If you like you can go see him now."

All three stood as they thanked the Doctor for her care of the youngest Hardy. She smiled at each of them in turn and asked they not hesitate to call upon her if they needed anything before telling them which room Joe was in. With a final handshake the three left.

Sam parted ways with the two Hardys outside the doctor's office. "I'll go let Con know and give hm a hand finishing up processing the building. You two go on without me. I'll stop by Fenton's room later." with a half salute he was on his way.

Frank and his mother walked over to the elevator and once in, pushed the button for the correct floor. When they got to the desk that served as the central staging area for the Burn unit, they were told they had to wait about 20 minutes before they could see Joe as he was still being settled in to his room. Laura took one look at her son and relented just a smidge in the forgiveness department. "I could use something to eat. Why don't we go down to the cafeteria. And I am sure you'll want to call the rest of the gang and let them know about Joe." Frank agreed, although he stared long and hard down the hall where he knew his brother was behind one of those doors before turning and walking beside his mother back to the elevator and down to the first floor cafeteria. He tld hi smother to order him a coffee and whatever looked good while he excused himself and went out onto the covered smoker's patio to make his phone calls. He got Chet first who expressed relief at the news and promised to let everyone else know. "let us know when he can have visitors!" Chet exclaimed before hanging up.

Frank went back inside and found his mother seated in a corner near the back. She had a tray full of food, 2 salads, a platter of meatloaf and mashed potatoes and one of fried chicken, and a pair of apple pies as well. "Eat. I don't care which you choose but whatever you do you will finish the plate. And dessert." Laura was firm although she softened it with a smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand. Frank said nothing but tucked into the fried chicken. Meatloaf was always Joe's go to meal, not his. He found himself wolfing everything down and had to force himself to slow down. Eventually, though there was nothing but chicken bones and few straggly wilted lettuce leaves. Laura had done similar justice to the meatloaf. She pushed away her plate and reached over to place her hands over Frank's.

"I owe you an apology, Son. I was angry and frustrated and scared as hell and I took it out on you. I know you have your own demons that you have been battling." His mother started to speak before pausing when he shook his head.

"No, you were right. A lot of this was my fault. I mean, not the break in or what happened after that, but some of the other stuff, like Dad.. yeah. That was all me. All they have been trying to do is help, wanting me to share the burden. I should have had more faith. Especially in Joe. I should never have doubted him or his capacity to forgive. I pushed him away cuz I was ashamed of what he would think of me, but I never once considered that he wouldn't care. He's the best thing in my life and I let him down." Frank choked up them, a lump in his throat.

"Nonsense, dear. You found him, didn't you? He's safe and he's going to be all right. Anything else you two will get through just like you always do. Now let's go see him." Laura pushed away from the table and gathered up the tray with all it's empty plates and dirty silverware and tossed them in the receptacle. She reached out her hand to her eldest son and walked with him to the elevator where they once again found themselves on the Burn ward. This time they were told they could go right in.

This was the first time any of them had ever been in this section of the hospital. Laura guessed that was a blessing of sorts. Burns severe enough to require hospitalization were painful and traumatic n a myriad of ways. The room was decorated quite cheerfully though, with soft pastels and soothing landscapes on the wall. This was the first good look she had gotten of her youngest and she was struck by how little his face was injured. Just one small cut on the cheek and a bruised eye. His other injuries were not so easily noticed. Only the shoulder swathed in a tight bandage gave any indication that he was hurt badly. She couldn't see his back at all. Frank for his part, was glad she couldn't. It was bad enough he had.

Laura gently smoothed back a stray lock of disheveled blond hair as she gently kissed her son's forehead and murmured "I'm so glad you are back with us, dear." She only stayed a few minutes, knowing that Frank needed to be with him; plus she had been away from Fenton several hours now and even though she knew he was still sedated she preferred him not being alone. Laura gave Joe one last caress before doing the same to Frank. "Don't stay too late, you need rest too, you know." Frank gave her a crushing hug and promised to take it easy.

Once she left, Frank took the time to really look at his brother. The face was pinched and drawn and he could see shadows under the closed eyes. The shoulder closest to him was the one that was wrapped up tight as a mummy and the other arm had the IV, so he had to settle for placing his hand on Joe's thigh. "Helluva pair, aren't we little brother? I just wanted to say, you were right. I should have told you everything. I was just ashamed of myself for thinking I replaced you. Who am I kidding?" Frank gave a bitter laugh. "You, Baby Bro, are one of a kind and could never be replaced by anyone. Mike was just somebody who I tried to make into you. I got him killed. But he isn't you. And I am sorry that it took you almost dying.._again_.. to make me see that. I can't do this without you Joe. None of it.. being a PI, living..you name it. Yin and Yang, that's us. I promise I will spill my guts as soon as you wake up, okay? And since you told me you were an impatient SOB, I imagine that's gonna be pretty soon, right?" Frank followed in his mother's shoes by fiddling with Joe's hair too. It was shorter than he had worn it before, but he had grown it out again after coming home from the Navy. Frank rather missed the old unkempt tangled mess. It was endearing in its own way.

"I'm here, Joe. I'm never going to leave you stranded again. We're stuck with each other."

"Please, Bro. Wake up and show me those blue eyes full of mischief and tell me we're gonna be okay."

Frank gave in to his emotions and let the tears flow freely. It was a long night but he spent it in the same position. He finally fell asleep, his head on Joe's stomach and no one thought it necessary to disturb him through the night.

**A/n: **_everybody happy now? Joe all rescued, Frank all big brother-y. All is mostly well in the Hardy universe. All that's left is for everybody to wake up and have heart to heart talks with each other..._


	13. Chapter 13

**A/n: **_In which we get a hint of the Brothers' old relationship before getting all deep and philosophical and heart to heart ish_

**Chapter Twelve**

Joe Hardy fought against the blackness that had been engulfing him. (_No more feeling sorry for myself, Frank would be pissed at me if I gave up_) That's what it came down to, no matter how bad things were between the brothers, Joe could never really fathom anything other than Frank swooping in at the last minute. Therefore he _had_ to hang on until the last minute. If he didn't, then Frank would also go overboard on the guilt thing. And Joe didn't want that. Guilt was useful in small doses, and for getting breakfast in bed. It wasn't all that great a motivator for anything else. Besides, there was that pesky love thing he had for his elder sibling. You never wished guilt on someone you loved.

As Joe struggled to return to the land of the living, he gradually became aware of a few things. First, he was no longer freezing his naughty bits off. Second, he was no longer parched. In fact he had to pee in the worst way. And third, there was something rather heavy on his bladder. Joe squirmed a little to shift whatever the weight was that was bearing down. In doing so he woke Frank up.

Frank felt the movement underneath and immediately sat up. "Joe?" He was answered by a grunt that elicited a huge smile of relief. "C'mon Bro, open yer eyes."

It took a minute or two but Joe finally did as he was told. Brilliant blue eyes, still a little hazy, gazed into deep brown ones filled with joy. "Hey there. How are you feeling?"

Joe opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a hoarse croak. Swallowing was only limited help as his throat was still very sore. He closed his eyes before taking a deep breath and trying again. "Gotta pee" came out in a whisper that made his raw throat scream in protest.

Frank smiled gently at his brother. "Dude. You have a catheter. Just let it go." That brought a frown and then a resigned sigh, which was followed by a sigh of relief as he relaxed the appropriate muscles. "Better?" Frank asked.

Joe nodded, eyes still closed. He tried to move his right arm to reach for Frank's hand but found he couldn't; that caused his eyes to spring open with a hint of alarm as he tried to sit up. Frank placed a restraining hand on the shoulder, which made Joe realize it was taped up pretty tightly against his torso. He frowned, which led to Frank explaining "It was dislocated. It's fine but it needs to be kept still for a few days." Joe nodded. (_Oh. Yeah. I remember now._) he shuddered at the memory of how it had been dislocated in the first place. Frank saw the shudder and rightly guessed as to the cause. He laid his hand against Joe's forehead and smoothed away a lock of hair. "It's okay. They're dead. Both of them."

Joe smiled then, a grim, tight one. "Good" he rasped, speaking still an effort he wasn't too keen on continuing.

"Joe, what's wrong with your voice?"

"Throat hurts. Screamed a lot. Sounded like a girl." There were long pauses between each sentence as he swallowed and grimaced in pain each time. Frank's eyes clouded over as he realized why Joe had been screaming.

"Then don't try and talk. I am going to go get the Nurse or the Doctor and let them know you are awake. I'll be right back." Frank turned to leave but was stopped as Joe reached his left hand across his body, yanking out his IV and causing an alarm to go off.

Joe's face was white, his eyes wide with fear. "Dad?" he croaked. "Luigi said..." His voice gave out finally but he refused to let go of his brother's arm even as the Nurse came charging in in response to the alarm. Frank hastily assured his brother that their father was still alive.

"He's upstairs. It's touch and go right now. He's heavily sedated. Mom's been with him. Although I think she may want to know you are awake. So I will go get her while the professionals hook you back up." Not that he had a choice, being gently but firmly steered away from the bed.

Once Frank had left, the motherly looking Nurse wasted no time in reattaching the IV to Joe's arm. "Although I doubt you will need this much longer, young man. You are looking much better than when you were brought in yesterday. Are you in any pain?" she asked kindly.

Joe shook his head but did mange to inform her his voice was shot with hand gestures. "Ahh. Well we do have some sprays that could help with that, I'll make sure the doctor takes a good look when she comes by in a few minutes. In the meantime please do try and relax. We tend to panic a little when the alarms go off on this ward. Usually means bad things are happening." with a final smile she whisked out of the room, leaving Joe puzzled at her comments. He shifted again, not quite comfortable but not exactly uncomfortable either. He was still trying to figure out just what was 'off' when the door burst open and in ran his mother.

"Oh Darling, I am so happy to see you awake! No, no, don't try and talk, Frank told me your throat hurts." Laura gave him a soft kiss to the forehead before caressing his cheek with her hand. Joe smiled wanly back at her. She looked tired. Actually, no scratch that. She looked exhausted. He knew he played at least a small part in that. He reached his left arm over, being careful to not dislodge anything this time and squeezed her hand tightly.

Joe mimed writing while throwing a questioning look at his mother, who got what the was trying to say immediately. "I''l just go and get some paper and a pen, dear. I'll be right back."

She had not yet returned when Dr Meadows walked in. "Hello, Joe. I'm Dr Meadows and we met yesterday although you were not very good company at the time. How are you feeling now?"

Joe grinned a little at her and shrugged half a shoulder while waggling his free hand back and forth in a 'meh' gesture. The Doctor pulled out her penlight and said "Open wide!" before peering down his throat. "Oh dear, I see what you mean. Tsk tsk. Well I can prescribe a soothing spray that will coat your vocal cords so they will relax a little as well as cool off your throat. But I think it best that you not speak at all for a day or so. But something tells me that may be difficult for you, am I right?" she gave a mischievous grin that was answered in kind. "Now, would you like the Reader's Digest Condensed version of your injuries?" Joe's grin grew a little wider. He liked this doctor and her sense of humor. He nodded and waved a hand in a "please proceed" gesture.

"Well, your shoulder was dislocated. Not a big deal although it must be immobilized another couple of days to allow the tendons and muscles to heal. You were extremely dehydrated when you were brought in, although I must say you are looking much less cadaverous now. I think we can finish this current bag of fluids then cut you off. Maybe some soft foods later that won't irritate your throat." Joe's stomach gave a loud growl just at that moment, causing the good doctor to laugh out loud in mirth. Joe's own grin was a trifle embarrassed. She continued.

"Your back." here she frowned a little, while Joe's grin also faded and his eyes grew distant. "There will be a dermatologist by in the next day or so to take a closer look, but I stitched up the really bad welts. I do not think you will need any skin grafts but I will let the expert make the final call. Does it hurt at all?" Joe frowned himself and did the 'meh' gesture again. It wasn't that it hurt, per se, it was just.. weird.. "You are in a special bed that relieves pressure points. I think tomorrow I will have you moved out of the Burn unit and into a regular room with a regular bed although you will most likely want to lie on your side. You must let us know if you do start to feel any pain or discomfort. You are at risk of infection."

"Third. You had a seizure before being brought in. It was most likely caused by a combination of your dehydration and the..ahh..electrical stimulation you received." It seemed too weird to blatantly say "tortured with a cattle prod' even to this young man who was no stranger to injury. She saw all of his scars when he had been brought in and of course had access to his medical records. Joe gave a silent bark of laughter at her choice of words, but it was tinged with a bitterness in his eyes that caused her own eyes to soften in empathy. "Your heart rate was very erratic for some time although it has now stabilized and has remained so for several hours. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I think there is nothing to worry about." she paused to take a breath and stepped over to the nearby sink and poured herself a small paper cup of water before returning to her seat.

"Next, the abrasions on your wrists. Nothing too severe, although I am sure they are annoying. Your ankles were less badly affected. Any thing else you want to know?"

Joe hesitated. With a shy glance from underneath disgustingly long eyelashes, he vaguely pointed _down there. _ Dr Meadows was not sure what he was referring to right away, but then it hit. "Oh, you want the catheter removed? Don't see why not." Joe shook his head a tiny fraction and mimed writing again for the second time in ten minutes. Dr Meadows handed over her pen and flipped the chart over to the blank back side.

Was there any damage? He wrote, the blush on his cheeks deepening as she read it and understanding dawned. "Oh good heavens, dear, no, everything is in perfect working order. The amount of voltage and current did no damage at all. You have nothing to fear on that account." Joe heaved an overly dramatic sigh of relief. ( _Not that it really matters. Not like I am getting any currently._) He was spared further embarrassment by a soft knock as Laura Hardy poked her head in. "Am I interrupting?" She asked.

"Just about finished here. Just need to make some notes." here Dr Meadows took back the chart and pen Joe had been using as she stood. "I will send that spray on down forthwith. One or two sprays at a time, every couple of hours. Don't go overboard and **don't** try and talk for at least 24 hours."

Laura smothered a laugh behind her hand. "Clearly, Dr Meadows, you have never treated my son before!" Joe would have crossed his arms in a a pout, if he had two free arms to cross. Instead, he had to settle for sticking his tongue out at his mother like a 3 year old. That brought gales of laughter from both women and even produced a grudging smile from the patient although it came paired with rolling eyes. Dr Meadows placed a hand on Laura's arm as she walked past. "I'll send the Nurse in to disconnect the catheter in a bit." and she was gone.

Laura came closer to the bed and gave Joe a peck on the cheek as she lightly tossed a small bag on his lap. "Sorry dear the gift shop downstairs didn't have much of a selection but it was either this or Elmo." Joe dumped the bag's contents one handed and chuffed in annoyance at the bright pink Hello Kitty notebook and matching pen. _(Terrific. Frank is never gonna let me live this down. Let alone the rest of the guys. _) He raised his face to look pleadingly at his mother, pouring all the puppy dog eyes charm he could into the gaze. "Never you mind, mister. I have learned to resist your evil charms." she laughed. Joe harrumphed and sulked for about 10 seconds before flipping the notebook pen and writing Thanks Mom.How is Dad, really?

Laura's smile faded. "This time it was a very severe heart attack, dear. He's just been under so much stress lately and when he saw the photographs..." her voice faded. Joe frowned. What photographs? he wrote, aggressively scratching pen to paper.

His mother's eyes, a paler shade of blue than his own, glistened with tears. "Picture of you, sweetheart. After those awful men took you." Joe gasped in horror. (_That damned video camera! Oh my gawd._) Before he could ask any more questions, the Nurse came in and said she was there to relieve Joe of his catheter. Laura stood, sniffling a little. "I left your brother upstairs with your father. I don't like Fenton being alone. But I will go take his place. I know you want to talk to him." She paused, caressing his cheek softly. "Honey, he's feels terrible about everything, and I am afraid I have been rather hard on him myself. Go easy on him." Joe raised his free hand and clasped hers before moving it to his lips for a soft kiss on the back of it. Tell Dad I'll be up to see him soon he hastily scribbled almost illegibly. "Of course dear." and she too, was gone, leaving him to the tender mercies of the same motherly Nurse who had come in before.

The extraction of the thin flexible tubing from his urethra went quickly and smoothly and he heaved a large sigh of pleasure and relief as the end came out. It may be a necessary medical procedure that enabled a patient to 'take care of business' but it was still uncomfortable as hell and more than a little embarrassing to be manhandled by someone old enough to be his own mother. (_'Course if she were young and sexy I'd have other things to be embarrassed about..._)

The Nurse smiled as she finished cleaning up and covered Joe's legs with the light blanket. "There you go, young man. Now if you need to use the facilities, call one of us to assist or have your brother do it. No walking around unaided just yet. I'll be by in about half an hour when your IV is empty and we can get rid of that as well." She felt around in her sweater pocket for a moment until she produced a small spray bottle. "This is a topical anti inflammatory spray. No more than 2 sprays at a time and at least an hour between them. There is also a light pain reliever. You are not currently on any other pain meds at all but if you are feeling poorly, you let us know." Joe nodded as he twisted off the cellophane safety seal and sprayed his throat. The cooling sensation elicited a contented sigh as his raw throat was soothed.

He was distracted by a soft chuckle from the doorway. Frank was standing there grinning. "Nice notebook, Bro." Joe just gave him a dirty look before flipping open Kitty and scribbling furiously,

Who the **F** is V anyway? Each stroke of the eff was repeatedly scribbled over in emphasis. Frank feigned ignorance. "Can't read your writing Bro. You really need to work on your penmanship." He was only half kidding. He knew exactly what Joe had been asking but wasn't ready to answer that just yet. In response, Joe growled at his recalcitrant brother and laboriously printed out his next message very carefully. Funny. Right handed, remember? To further hammer home his annoyance, he tossed the notebook at his brother's head. Left handed. The one that _wasn't_ currently taped to his chest with a big ole bandage.

Frank laughed and relented. "But you have to admit even right handed your legibility is dubious at best." Joe aimed the pen at Frank's left eyeball. "Okay Okay. Sheesh. No sense of humor whatsoever."

Frank grew serious. "Vincente is somebody Dad tangled with years ago, while you were gone. Sam and I were only peripherally involved. Dad got one of his trusted advisors to roll him over but all they could get on him was tax fraud, but Dad is certain he's connected to several unsolved murders in the City plus a few other things like loan sharking and smuggling. The only person who knows which advisor betrayed him is Dad. Vincente wants to know. So when you busted in on the Mazollas, they seized the opportunity to persuade Dad to talk. Unfortunately, he took one look at the pictures, and..." Frank's voice trailed off, eyes haunted with the memory of that day.

Joe reached across and touched Frank's arm, squeezing gently before gesturing for the return of his notebook. That bad? Frank swallowed hard, a lump in his throat. "yeah, Bro, it was that bad. But at least he never saw the video." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. Joe whacked Frank with the notebook and growled some more.

Frank turned anguished eyes full of pain on his silent brother. "Don't. It was hard enough watching it once, without sound. Don't ask me me to relive it." Joe sat back, and then put pen to paper. I was there. Not anxious for a rerun. Frank gave a half sob, half laugh and embraced his brother tightly until Joe's squeal of pain made him hastily let go. "It did do one bit of good. The CSI tech guys were able to figure out where you were from it. Con had them working on it non stop." Remind me to thank him then. So tell me how you rode to my rescue.

Frank was never any good at telling stories. Joe was the one who could regale an audience with dramatic sweeps of his hands at just the right moment or a well phrased flurry of words. Nevertheless, he tried. It was easier if he turned off the emotion and operated on autopilot, much like he had been these last couple of months. The dry recitation made it it easier for Joe to hear. Frank had just finished with his tale when the Nurse came back in with two pieces of news.

"Well young man, how would you like to be cut loose? The IV bag is bone dry and Dr Meadows says you don't need any more so I can disconnect you. Frank, is it?" She turned to the older brother, who nodded yes. "Why don't you see if you can scrounge up a wheelchair. I have it on very good authority that someone upstairs is awake and asking for his sons." Both Frank and Joe's faces split open wide with grins at the announcement and Frank quickly turned around and left the room in search of transportation.

Joe was quickly divested of the large bore needle that had been taped to his left arm to allow fluids to be replaced and he was already sitting up with his legs over the side of the bed when Frank returned with the wheelchair. Frank set the brakes and stood on one side to give Joe support while the nurse took his right side. He settled himself comfortably and actually allowed Frank to tuck a light blanket around his bare legs, wincing only slightly as his back leaned up against the chair. Frank had grabbed the cute pink notebook and pen and was about to drop it in his brother's lap when Joe imperiously clicked his fingers and waved a hand forward. Funny, but on the way to the lap the notebook seemed to get sidetracked by the back of a blond head. "Oh sorry, Bro. Didn't see you there."

Joe merely glared before putting on his excited face. He stuck his free arm down to the brake and released first one side, then the other and would have started to creep forward using his legs if it weren't for Frank telling him to hang on for half a sec and to quit being so damned impatient. The ride down the hall, in the elevator and down yet another hall seemed to take forever to both brothers. And yet is was only a few minutes before Frank pushed open the door to his Father's room and beheld the beautiful sight of Fenton Hardy awake and sitting up.

**A/n: **_I figured both boys would not be quite ready to have a serious heart to heart, especially since Joe has been temporarily silenced. Plus it's always fun to just have lighthearted banter to offset the angst. _


	14. Chapter 14

**A/n: **_ this is a REALLY short chapter. Born out of necessity. I'll explain at the end._

**Chapter Thirteen**

The next few days flew by uneventfully. Fenton was still very weak and slept most of the time, but now that he had regained consciousness it was easier to convince their mother to spend the night at home instead of the hospital. Joe had been released after 2 days, having gotten the good news from the dermatologist that while the scarring would be extensive, no skin grafts would be needed. His throat was recovering nicely, and yet he seemed to remain uncharacteristically silent most of the time. Instead of going back to his apartment, which had long been cleared as a crime scene, he took over Laura's watch at Fenton's bedside most nights. During the day he and Frank spent their time putting the office back together and re wiring the security system. By unspoken agreement no mention was made of the things weighing most heavily on the two men. Frank returned to his thrice weekly sessions with Dr. Suitland but resisted bringing Joe along.

Now that the danger was past, each man resumed their earlier behavior. Frank was loathe to tell Joe about Mike and Joe reneged on his earlier promise to let Frank have his little secret. He began teasing Frank mercilessly, never realizing that his pointed comments were hitting much closer to the mark than Frank was comfortable with.

"Fraaaannnnnk" Joe whined one afternoon as they gathered broken bits of furniture and scattered bits of paper in their father's office. "Resistance is Futile. You know you can't withstand my charms forever." Joe laughed and grunted simultaneously under the weight of an overturned filing cabinet that he was setting right. He stopped, grimacing a little as his back protested. His back was still very sore and tender and he tired easily, but was not going to let Frank be stuck with all the cleaning up. After all, at least a third of the mess was the direct result of his attempts to engage the Mazzola Brothers (_May they so NOT rest in peace_) and prevent them from getting away. He thought by treating the whole thing as a joke he could get Frank to loosen up a little and see that Joe was not worried about any fallout.

Trouble was, Frank was still feeling extreme guilt and couldn't treat his betrayal as anything less than a cardinal sin. He refused to discuss his feelings with his father, thinking he had done enough damage already. Joe was just happy to have at least a hint of their former easygoing banter back and forth be the main method of communication so he only pouted a little when Frank remained tight lipped before clapping his brother on the shoulder and saying "Dude, I am famished. Let's get outta here and find some grub." Frank didn't need much persuasion and before too long they were back at Five Guys splitting an order of fries and tackling their own huge burgers. It was easy to pretend.. at least until they went their separate ways.

But Frank's easygoing manner abandoned him as soon as he got in the car to head towards his therapist's office. He was ushered into the inner sanctum on time and after shaking hands refused the offer of something to drink. "How's your father doing, Frank?" the doctor asked.

Frank took a deep breath, then exhaled it slowly before replying "Much better, thanks. He should be released in a day or so but will be under strict orders to avoid any overexertion. Mom already has had us remodel the office back into a sickroom."

The doctor nodded, pleased that the news continued to get better regarding Fenton. His pleasure did not last as the session went downhill fast. Frank had resumed his earlier insistence that Joe not be brought in, and expressed misgivings about having told his father anything as well, blaming himself at least partially for the recent heart attack. No amount of persuasion, cajoling or gentle admonishment on Dr Suitland's part made any difference. At the end of the session, as Frank stood up, he said "Next week then?" and was surprised when the Psychologist said. "No, Frank, I don't think so. I can't help you if you refuse to be helped. Until you let go of this guilt and self recrimination, you cannot get past this. And since you refuse to let me or anyone else share the burden with you, there is nothing more to be said or done." Dr Suitland smiled sadly. Frank was about to become his first true failure as a professional therapist. The thought saddened him and for decidedly non professional reasons.

"Of course my door is always open, so if you ever decide to come clean, call me. I'll be here."

Frank only nodded and thanked the doctor for all he had tried to do. As he left, he felt rather relieved. No more pressure to face what he could not bear to face. He could just tell Joe that the subject would be forever _not_ open for discussion and if didn't like that tough shit. He would consider it payback for running out on him all those years ago. Frank was actually willing to risk the possibility of losing his brother over this rather than the certainty of doing so if Joe ever learned the truth.

A few days later, Mary buzzed Dr Suitland's office. "Doctor, Mr. Hardy is here to see you." The Doctor replied "Send him right in! Do I have any conflict? If so please cancel for me and reschedule." Mary acknowledged the request before hanging up. The Psychologist could not suppress the grin that had spread over his face. Finally Frank Hardy had seen reason!

But when he opened the door, it was not Frank that stood there, but Joe. And Joe was looking like he had just lost his best friend. He said not a word, but walked in and immediately sat in the chair he had always sat in before. "I've lost my Big Brother." he said, in a broken voice that was choked with tears.

Dr Suitland brought another chair over and settled it directly in front of Joe's bowed head. "Tell me."

Joe unleashed a torrent of words, emotions, sobs and hysterical ranting that left him shaking with fatigue and mentally drained, and the doctor in front of him worried about his mental health and sanity.

He stood up, reached across his desk and buzzed his Receptionist. "Mary, please call the _other _Mr. Hardy and tell him to get his ass in here. Use those _exact _ words and also tell him if he doesn't he will find himself in a world of hurt because your next set of orders will be to call his father and I don't give a damn about doctor/patient confidentiality. Thank you."

Joe had raised his head and a look of alarm had passed over his face. Dr S. raised a hand. He was angrier than Joe had ever seen even his father get when dealing with idiot clients or law enforcement. "No Joe, the time for subtlety is long over due. It is time for an intervention. I should have forced the issue weeks ago. Your brother has no right to put your mental health at risk just to assuage his own misplaced and asinine guilt."

When Mary buzzed 20 minutes later with the news that the _other_ one was here, Dr Suitland got up and opened the door to his inner office personally. Frank noted 2 things straight off. First, Dr Suitland was looking downright pissed and it was directed solely at him. And second, Joe was also in the room, looking devastated, alone and broken. He came in and was about to rush to his brother's side, when he was grabbed firmly by the arm.

"See what your damned stubbornness has done? Your brother, the one whom you claim to love sooo much and care about more than your own self, is dying of a broken heart here. All because YOU don't have enough faith in the love **HE **bears **YOU**."

He let go of Frank's arm, then swiftly walked over to his desk. "You _will_ spill your guts, right here and right now. I don't care if this costs me my license. Because if you do not. _**I**_ will." Dr Suitland sat down heavily in his leather desk chair, and crossed his arms, glaring at Frank.

**A/n: **_Yes this is crazy chaotic and I bet you are feeling like WTF happened. 1st, Frank doesn't wanna talk to me, but Joe won't shut up. so i am finding myself trying to capture Joe without losing any impetus. . 2nd, my original goal, to have this wrapped up by easter.. ain't gonna happen. that deadline has been moved to end of May. 3rd, I hate leaving people hanging for more than a few days but I am telling you right now this is going to be the last update for at least a week, and probably more like 2. I can't give the story the justice it deserves this week, so all i am going to do, if anything, is rough draft. I will polish and edit once DH is settled and at his new duty station. I hope everyone forgives the long lag before the next chapter and that you will understand why I am taking the time to do it right. Thanks!_


	15. Chapter 15

**A/n: **_I want to thank everyone who has been patiently awating this next chapter. I am not as happy with it as I could be but I am hoping the next one makes up for it. yes, DH got back on time despite a minor scare during the last leg of the trip. the easter bunny was VERY good to me. we spent the last week buying anew car among other things but he is back to work now so I no longer have any excuse to not write. _

**Chapter Fourteen**

Joe was reaching the end of his(already limited) patience. At first he was just happy to be back to the old routine, joking around with his brother, reveling in the fact that both he and his father were going to be fine. But it wasn't long before he realized that he still needed his brother tell him what he already knew. Which he knew was ridiculous. And petty. But he couldn't help it. He needed to know that Frank trusted him enough to tell him. For without that unshakable trust, Joe wasn't sure if they could continue working together, let alone have a relationship.

"Joesph, _sit down_. I am exhausted just watching you." Fenton admonished one evening as Joe paced nervously in his father's hospital room. Joe grumbled but flopped unceremoniously into the hard plastic chair with a grunt of annoyance. "What's bugging you?"

Joe sighed loudly and dramatically. "What do you think, Dad?" Joe shifted his weight so that he was leaning forward. His back still protested when he leaned against anything solid, and his shirt choices were limited to soft cotton only for the most part. He would be glad when the welts fully healed. "I am about ready to accuse Frank of being the stubborn one of the family."

Fenton chuckled but it was an ironic one. "There's no danger of passing on that particular title, son. Look at yourself. Why is this such a big deal to you? Is it not enough to know, regardless of how you got the information?"

Joe sighed again, and took a moment to compose his thoughts. "I tried to let it be, Dad. Really. But the more I think about it , the more I realize that it's less about what he won't tell me and all about _why _he won't. Why doesn't he trust me enough? I know you said he thinks it's unforgivable but whyinhell doesn't he let _me _be the judge of that?" Joe turned anguished sapphire eyes on his father, who returned the look sadly.

"Joe, you know your brother loves you" Fenton began, only to stop abruptly when his younger son exploded up out of the chair and began pacing again.

"No, Dad, actually I don't. Not any more. If I was sure he did then we wouldn't be having this conversation. Because I wouldn't be second guessing every single decision I have made over the last 7 years."

"What on earth do you mean, Son?"

"I screwed up.. badly. I left. And I never told him I was leaving, let alone why. And ever since then, he's felt like I betrayed him." Little did Joe know he was echoing his brother's very same sentiment. "And when I came back.. ironically enough for my father's heart attack;" Joe gave a sour grin "I basically avoided the truth. Oh sure we had a little discussion one day at the kitchen table, but really, we never resolved a damn thing." Joe resumed his pacing as he finally verbalized all the doubt and uncertainty he had been experiencing over the last couple of years.

Fenton was quiet, recognizing Joe's need to just talk without really expecting any response. Joe took up his monologue. "Then I came home. I wanted to have it out, you know.. maybe let him know I had my reasons. But he refused even then to listen, really. But I had missed him so much that I was willing to let him set the tone. If he wanted to hover, fine. At least with him micromanaging I could delude myself into thinking he still gave a damn." Joe's voice was bitter. "And I let him get away with it. Figured I owed him." The frenetic pacing continued. And continued. Fenton was getting motion sickness. And whiplash. Back and forth his youngest son went, striding on long legs that got him to one end of the small hospital room in 3 paces before he abruptly whirled and retraced his steps in the other direction.

Finally, Fenton couldn't stand it any longer. "Joseph, come sit down." Joe shook his head and kept going. Or would have , if it weren't for his father reaching out and grabbing him above the elbow as he strayed too close. Despite his weakened state, Fenton's grip was sturdy and did not easily give way when Joe tugged. Sighing loudly again, he allowed himself to be persuaded to sit down for half a second. Then Joe looked into his father's eyes and gasped at what he saw in their depths. "He _told you_!" Joe seethed. "You know, don't you?"

Fenton nodded. "Yes, Son, I do. And I made a promise to your brother to not tell you so please don't ask me to." 

"Great. Anybody else besides me been let in on the deep dark secret?" The anger and frustration were evident in Joe's tone of voice.

"I told your mother and yes she has been sworn to secrecy as well. This is something only Frank can tell you..and should. And for a while I was hoping that he would. Then I had hoped that you would let it go. I can see that I was wrong on all counts." Fenton's voce was sad. "You need to have it out with your brother, don't you? Come hell or high water, you need him to tell you himself. For your own peace of mind." Father spoke to Son matter of factly, if a trifle resigned.

"Dad, why doesn't he trust me any more?" Joe wailed. "First he was the busybody who made Helicopter Parents look positively lethargic when it came to my college education. Then it was like I couldn't handle so much as a simple tail of a suspected cheater alone. We won't even talk about getting shot and how it seemed like he wouldn't even let me feed myself, let alone use a steak knife." With each comment, Joe's voice grew more strident and anguished. Fenton was at a loss for words. He had no idea how to console one son while knocking some sense into the other.

"Joseph, one thing I never worried about while you two were growing up was the fact that you could talk to each other about anything and everything. If I couldn't be there for you, at least you had each other. I want nothing more than for you to get that back." Fenton paused, his eyes sad as he gazed into his son's desperate ones. "But I have no idea how to help you accomplish that task."

Joe leaned over and grasped his father's hand tightly. "This isn't your fight. I have to do this on my own. And it's time I quit dumping my problems on you and took care of this myself. But thanks for letting me vent, and for not telling me to let it go. Means a lot. But let me ask you one thing..." Joe hesitated.

"Is he right? _Is _ it unforgivable?"

Fenton took a long moment before answering. "He thinks it is. And until he can be convinced otherwise, I am not sure there is any hope of fixing the problem between you two. And yes, Joe, I have tried telling him that he has nothing to worry about. So has Doctor Suitland. Maybe you can get through to him." Privately, though, Fenton seriously doubted that. For some reason, Frank had gotten it into his head that he was lower than pond scum and that Joe would sever all ties with him forever if he learned the truth. Fenton knew better, of course; Joe's capacity for love and forgiveness was exceeded only by his mother's. But if anyone could break through the stubbornness his eldest was displaying, it was his youngest. It was a slim hope, but Fenton hung onto it for all he was worth. It was breaking his heart to see the brothers at such odds with one another.

Joe continued his restless pacing until the Night Nurse came in and yelled at him for keeping his father awake with all his shenanigans. It was a subdued and despondent Joe Hardy who bid his father goodnight before taking off for his apartment. He spent a sleepless night and gave it up as a lost cause before 6 am. By 630, he was pounding on his brother's apartment door. He apologized profusely to a disheveled and still mostly asleep Chet when the formally rotund sometime farmer fumbled the lock open and let his sister's first(and only) love in. Chet merely grunted when Joe asked him where Frank was but waved an arm vaguely in the direction of the bedroom before stumbling back into his own.

Joe traipsed into the kitchen where he promptly made a full pot of Navy Coffee and poured two oversized mugs before barging in to his brother's room. He placed both mugs on the dresser before flinging open the cheap mini blinds and let the full impact of the rising sun blaze on Frank's face. "Wakey Wakey Big Brother." the words were innocuous, but the tone of voice instantly put Frank on guard. That, and the fact that it was too damn early in the morning even for him, let alone his younger sibling who prided himself on sleeping in as late as he could get away with most days.

"What's happened?" Frank was instantly out of bed and wary.

"Nothing, yet." Joe's response was bland but again, Frank wasn't buying it. Joe handed Frank a mug and sat down at the nearby desk, stretching his long legs straight out and crossing them at the ankle. "Get dressed. We have somewhere to be."

"And where, pray tell, is that?"

"You'll see."

Frank growled but did as he had been instructed, throwing on a pair of jeans and a polo shirt before standing in front of his seated brother. Crossing his arms he cocked his head and said "Will this do?"

Joe stood and took the grey hoodie that had been draped over the chair he had been sitting in and tossed it lightly. "You'll need this, too." His own hoodie was Navy Blue and was emblazoned with his former ship's crest on the front left chest. He was still tight lipped and there was none of his usual happy go lucky exuberance in his manner. Frank began to get the uneasy feeling that all hell was about to break loose.

"Joe, what is this all about?" Frank said, with a hint of anger in his voice. Joe just shook his head and remained tight lipped. He was not going to begin the conversation until they were alone and unobserved. If Frank got ticked, oh well. He was plenty ticked himself and it was about damn time he wasn't alone in that sentiment. "Fine. Be that way." Frank waved a hand and intoned "Lay On Macduff." He had a feeling the other shoe was about to drop. And despite that premonition, he was still bound and determined to continue on with his refusal to air his dirty laundry, no matter what the cost.

The drive was undertaken in complete silence. Not even the radio was on. From time to time, Frank glanced over at Joe, who paid the strictest attention to the road and completely ignored his brother. This was enough to impress upon Frank the seriousness that Joe was treating this. For once, Joe was focused and intent. There was no distracting him from the course he had mapped out. The dark haired brother was unsurprised to see that their travels led them to the cliffs above Barmet Bay. This had been Joe's refuge when his world had shattered with Iola's death. He also remembered the last time he had been here.

Joe put the SUV into park and pocketed the keys as he got out. He swiftly walked over to the large rock that had so often before served as a back rest before whirling and stalking towards Frank, who was following behind a few paces. The normally sparkling with mischievousness sapphire blue orbs were dark and blazed with a fierceness that caused Frank to swallow nervously. "I can't do this any more, Frank. This has gone far beyond me being nosy. I _need_ the truth from you. No matter what the cost." The vehemence and anger in Joe's voice instantly put Frank on the defensive.

"You don't **need** a damn thing, you just can't stand being in the dark. Well guess what, I have managed to go the past seven years without telling you every little facet of what's been going on in my life. I sure as hell don't **have** to tell you a damn thing." Frank's own anger was fueled by the shame he still felt and his reluctance to let the truth be known. "Not like you were all that verbose yourself. Nearly five years without so much as a post card. Then you waltz back in and expect things to be like they used to be?" Frank's voice rose and became strident.

Joe's responded heatedly. "I already told you my reasons for leaving. How many times must I explain.. or apologize, before you forgive me?" He took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing. "Because if you can't talk to me, then how can I be sure that you trust me enough on the job? Or anywhere else for that matter?"

"Yeah well, it's not always about you little brother." the words, spoken with a sneer and a derisive tone broke Joe's heart. It was then that he truly realized that it was too late to fix this. Frank not only no longer trusted him, he was not even willing to regain it.

Frank saw the blood drain from his brother's face but was unmoved. As far as he was concerned the subject was closed. Permanently. This wasn't about making Joe feel better or feeding into his emotional blackmail. This was about Joe remaining ignorant. It would blow over. May take a few days, or weeks, but eventually Joe would forget all about it.

Silently, Joe returned to the SUV and unlocked the driver's side door. He didn't bother waiting for his brother to open the other side, but turned the engine over and peeled out of the gravel strewn earth that doubled as a parking space. At first, Frank was livid, but decided that in the long run it was better that they weren't in the same vehicle together. He called Chet, who by now had woken up for real, and requested a lift back to their apartment. He refused to say anything to his friend about why he needed a ride at all and Chet wisely kept his thoughts and opinions to himself.

Only Joe didn't forget all about it. Instead he mourned the loss of his only sibling. He knew what it felt like to lose someone in death. This.. was worse. With Iola, he had mourned, and grieved, and eventually moved on. But Iola never chose to leave him, to abandon him. Frank deliberately walked away from their relationship. And Joe thought it was his fault. He stopped going to the office. He stopped going to the hospital to see his father. He refused to return his mother's calls. The only person he did respond to was Chief Reilley. And only because he didn't feel like avoiding an all out manhunt/APB on him. He spent entire days in the cemetery. One afternoon, a couple of days later, he was just sitting there, legs crossed and arms limply resting on them palms up in a sort of yoga or meditation pose that Iola had tried teaching him a hundred years ago. But his thoughts were not calm and ordered, but restless and full of negative emotion. Chet found him there with tears silently running down his cheeks.

Chet squatted down and brushed a stray wisp of dead foliage off his sister's grave. He never said a word, having come upon Joe numerous times before in the same spot, pose and vulnerability. In a way it had always comforted him to know that Iola was still so loved. His weekly visits often ended the same way, in tears. Finally, he broke the silence. "Anything I can do to help?"

Joe jumped a little at the unexpected sound but recovered and shook his head no. "Nothing can help." he said despondently.

"Sure about that? Seems to me you need to let it out. I don't pretend to understand what is going on between you two, but lemme tell ya, it's hard watching it." Chet laid a hand on Joe's arm. "Don't fall back into old habits, Joe. Iola would never forgive you. That whole self destructive thing.. didn't suit you." Chet eased down to the ground and leaned against the headstone. "Why not talk to that psychologist you got stick with after you got shot? He actually got through that rock you call a skull. Can't hurt. Might help."

"What's the point? Frank has already made his choice to not give me a second chance. Why bother?"

"Because you twit you managed to go 5 years without depending on him for every little thing and you are a better man because of it. You forget, Joe. I saw the changes in you even if they were from afar. You did the right thing. Don't ever let Frank or anyone else convince you otherwise. If he can't see that, that's his loss. Now you just have to be reminded of that."

Joe shook his head, still wallowing in self pity but in the back of his mind knew Chet was making a lot of sense. It took only a little more cajoling before he agreed to stop by Dr. Suitland's office. He declined Chet's offer to accompany him, though, saying he needed to do this alone.

When he walked into the office, Mary the receptionist looked a little surprised at his appearance but immediately called the good doctor on the internal system. He was a little surprised, but rather grateful when he was told to go right in.

As soon as he got through the door, though, Joe lost his composure. All the past emotion he had been struggling with threatened to overwhelm him and he was fast approaching hyperventilation when Dr Suitland calmly said "Tell me."

That simple phrase was all it took. Joe spent the next hour pouring his heart out. By the time he had finished, he was exhausted. But that quickly changed to surprise and alarm when he heard the psychologist's instructions to his receptionist. In less than 30 minutes Frank was at the door and was being unceremoniously ripped a new one. Dr Suitland was impressive, and scary in his reading Frank the riot act.

Both Doctor and Patient turned to the dark haired man standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Ball is in your court, Frank. Are you going to do what you should have done weeks ago, or shall I tell the story for you?" Dr Suitalnd's voice was leaving no room for misinterpretation. Frank was defeated, and he knew it. He slowly made his way further int the room and sat down on the other comfy chair and steeled himself for the inevitable.

**A/n: **_ yes FINALLY Frank spills his guts to his brother. and then Joe whaps him upsdie the head for being such an idiot. this is winding down soon. maybe three or 4 more chapters to go. and then you all get a break from my rambling. _


	16. Chapter 16

**A/n: **_Okay this is another way short chapter. It would have been longer, as I planned on having 'The Talk' here, but since my husband informed me we were taking a trip to NY to see family this weekend I ran out of time to get that far. So instead you get this.. and maybe I can sneak a few hours in on my laptop this weekend to write in between hanging out with all his sisters. Oh who am I kidding.. my MiL is gonna drag me to all the Shaker craft shops. __  
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**Chapter Fifteen**

Frank Hardy was stuck between Scylla and Charybdis. He wanted nothing more than to bolt. He had never before considered himself a coward, but right now that is exactly how he felt. He was literally getting sick to his stomach at the thought of telling Joe. Objectively, he tried to dismiss that notion. After all, he had told Dr Suitland. And his father. Fenton hadn't condemned him and in fact assured him that his brother wouldn't either. So what was the big deal anyway?

Joe must have been reading his mind, because he finally spoke, although the voice was choked with a desperation Frank had never before heard directed at himself. "What is the big deal, Frank? What is soooo horrid that you can't tell me, your baby brother?" Joe's voice was thick with the tears he had shed recently.

Frank shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you..." he began, but was cut off by Joe's exploding up off the chair and stomping around the tastefully appointed office of the good Dr Suitland.

"A little late for that, Big Brother." Joe's voice was still fraught with anguish but this time it was tinged with no small amount of bitterness. "We used to tell each other everything. Our Fears, our Hopes, our Dreams. Now you won't tell me squat. Howinhell can I help you if you don't tell me what's wrong?"

"I don't need your help."

, who up until now had remained passively observing the scene playing out before him, couldn't help it. His snort of derisive laughter startled both brothers and caused them to look in his direction. "Frank, not only do you _absolutely_ need his help, he is the only one who **can** help you. You certainly haven't let me do it.. nor your father."

Frank was momentarily confused as well as hesitant. He still felt massively guilty despite everything. But at the same time he could see what this was doing to Joe. The last time he had seen such utter despair in those brilliant blue eyes was when Iola died. He had almost lost his brother then. And now he was seeing he was a lot closer to losing him right now. Maybe permanently, too. But still he hung back, refusing to speak.

Joe decided to take matters into his own hands. "What don't you want me to know, Frank? The fact that Mike Donovan looked exactly like me? That he played football too? That he had the same jersey number in high school? That he died because he refused to throw a game? That it was your idea to run the con on the bookies? What?" With each statement, Frank grew ever paler as he realized that Joe _already_ knew a whole lot more than he had ever intended.

"Dad? Dad broke his promise, didn't he?" Frank was half aghast and half furious.

"Actually he never said a word. He was most loyal to you despite everything. I got the name from Mom. The rest was all me. I learned a lot about Google when I was laid up, Frank. I can search the the interweb with the best of 'em now." Joe was a teensy bit smug but he still allowed the overriding emotional distress to be prevalent.

Dr. Suitland interrupted here. "Frank, now that you know Joe has the facts, why not go one step further? There's no valid reason you can come up with now."

Frank only shook his head vehemently more afraid than ever to wear his heart in his sleeve. Joe gave one last, desperate plea. "Dammit, Frank. I found out the What all by myself. All that's left is the Why. WHY can't you tell me? There's not a damn thing in any of the files that makes me believe you screwed up in any way, so that can't be it. Yeah, he died. And that sucks big time. I know you have this misguided sense of responsibility but Geez Louise, Frank, you can't honestly think for one second that what happened was your fault? Just like **me** getting shot was not your fault." Joe stood directly in front of his brother, and stuck his forefinger under his brother's chin, forcing brown eyes full of grief and shame to gaze into blue ones equally full of grief and despair.

"I need you tell me why, Frank. Why can't you tell me? Is it my fault? Do you not trust me any more? Have you stopped giving a damn about me?" Joe's voice broke as he lapsed into silence, finally out of words to try and convince his bother.

Frank reached up and grasped the hand that was lightly grasping his chin. "Never that, Joe" he whispered in a voice barely audible. Joe knelt down in front of Frank and leaned in very close, foreheads touching. For a long moment neither man moved. "I just don't want you to hate me if I do tell you." This time it was the elder brother's voice that broke as he finally admitted the fear that had been consuming him. "I could never survive it if you hated me."

Joe reached his other hand around and grasped Frank's hair, forcing the elder brother to maintain his current position. "And I wont survive if you can't be honest with me." Frank gave a choked sob that sounded like he was being strangled as he threw himself into his brother's embrace. Joe nearly lost his balance but was prevented from toppling over when Frank tightened his grip. They stayed in the uncomfortable position quite some time and they had long forgotten the presence of the other figure in the room. Eventually, though, knees and backs protested and the two men broke apart. Joe ended up sitting on the floor, shoulders slumped. Frank had leaned back on his heels but he was similarly positioned.

"Now what?" Joe asked.

"Now, Frank admits that he has no earthly reason to keep his feelings from you and he finally starts to heal. Isn't that right, Mr Hardy?" Dr. Suitland's voice was no longer full of repressed anger; it had been replaced with the professional mask of calm soothing tones that invited people to relax and feel comfortable talking about their issues. But though the inflection was bland, there was no mistaking the meaning behind it. Frank was not leaving this room until he had told Joe everything. Hs shoulders slumped even more in defeat.

"So basically, I no longer have any choice in the matter." The words were devoid of emotion.

"There's always a choice, Frank. You can choose to let go of your shame, and help not only yourself but your brother heal and move on, or you can continue on as you are, and destroy whatever is left of the relationship you have with him. Permanently. Is that what you want?" The doctor's voice was low and intense as he came around the desk and squatted down between the two brothers. "Just make sure that if you choose the latter option, you are perfectly cognizant of what that will do to Joe. If you cannot be honest with him, you will destroy him. Can you do that. Frank? Could you live with yourself? Could you stand by and let your brother fall apart because you don't have any faith in him?"

Frank was shocked at the words. "I have faith.." he began, only to trail off as the implications set in. Joe shook his head sadly.

"If you did, you would have trusted that whatever it is that is bothering you so much about Mike Donovan would not have made a damn bit of difference to me." Joe's voice became strident as he let loose with all the suppressed emotion he had been choking down. "You keep saying I will hate you if I know. Why don't you trust me enough to know that there is nothing on this earth that could make me _**ever**_ hate you?" Joe struggled to his feet, angrily shaking off Frank's attempts to grab him. " You don't have any faith at all, Frank. Not in me. Not in my love for you. And that's..." Here's Joe's voice cracked. "That's the hardest thing I ever had to deal with. Not even losing Iola was this bad. If I knew what it was I did that made you lose that faith I would have fixed it a long time ago. But you won't tell me. So I can't do anything but watch you slip away." Joe finally collapsed on the chair and buried his head in his hands. Both Frank and Dr. Suitland could see his violent trembling from several feet away.

Dr Suitland stood up and walked over to Joe, sitting next to him and placing a hand on the blond's knee. He said nothing but gave a pointed look in Frank's direction, silently daring him to take the next step.

**A/n:** _I know I am a terrible person leaving it like this. but this was pretty tough to write. The conversation is going to come pouring out and you may end up with a chapter that's ten pages long if I can't control myself. But I promise, Frank finally opens up. and then Joe whaps him for being a dunderhead. Cuz that's what little brothers do. It's in the official Little Brother handbook. Chapter 6. _


	17. Chapter 17

**A/n: **_Alright maybe not ten pages long.. but without further ado( and many 'polergies for the tardiness) **The Talk**__  
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**Chapter Sixteen**

Frank knew this was the moment of truth. He was either about to lose his brother forever, or finally let go of his inner demons. He knew which option he preferred; he just wasn't sure he was strong enough. He took a deep breath and mentally girded his loins so to speak. (_Out of the frying pan..._)

Slowly moving forward, he paused next to Dr. Suitland and silently asked to take the Psychologist's place next to Joe. The Doctor stood up and equally silently indicated that Frank should move in. The silence continued, palpable in the cozy office. Finally Frank could stand it no longer.

"Joe?" he hesitantly asked, softly and nervous as all hell. Joe never looked up but did not shy away from his brother's hand on his knee. "You're wrong. I did screw up. So very badly."

The younger brother finally looked up and spoke. "I saw the police report, Frank. _And _ the coroner's report. There weren't any mistakes made by you." Frank shook his head.

"That's where you are wrong. I made the biggest mistake of all. I treated Mike...like you."

"Huh?" Joe's confusion was evident.

"You saw what he looked like. Imagine the first time I saw him in our dorm room, looking so much like the one person I missed more than life itself. And when he opened his mouth and talked almost exactly like you, I allowed myself to believe that you were right there after all. That you never left. I let him replace you in my daily life. And then he replaced you in my heart. Mike became my little brother. I threw you over for a perfect stranger and treated him like he was my best friend." Frank broke down here and couldn't continue. Joe was still in a state of shock and looked questioningly over Frank's bowed head at Dr. Suitland. Dr Suitland just nodded encouragingly at Joe.

"So, what, you thought I'd get pissed at you? Is that it?" Joe was astonished. "You really think I would be so petty as to begrudge you a new friend? What kind of selfish bastard do you take me for?" Joe abruptly stood up and began pacing, causing Dr Suitalnd to scramble out of the way and put the desk between hm and the blond. "That was the whole damn _point_ Frank! You were _supposed_ to find some new friends. I never wanted you to become a hermit. I wanted you to get out and have a life.. a real one, without having to be saddled with me."

"Joesph, if I may interrupt for a moment?" Dr Suitland spoke for the first time in many minutes. He had been watching the interaction between the siblings and decided it was time for a little clarification. Each brother had made some errors and assumptions about the other and it was time to set the record straight. "I gotta say you two are a piece of work, you know that?" he chuckled dryly. Both men looked at him askance. "Normally, when I do couples therapy it's because each half is going out of their way to hurt the other. But you two? I have never met a more selfless, self sacrificing pair in my life. You each spend so much time trying to avoid hurting the other that you end up making more of a mess." He looked at each man fondly. "Quit being so damned noble all the time!" He stood up, came around his desk and positioned the third chair so that it was directly in front of the two brothers.

"Look, gentlemen, this has got to stop. It's _okay_ to cause pain and anguish, as long as it is not done maliciously or with intent and you ask forgiveness and it is accepted. All this dancing around trying to protect each other is counterproductive." Dr Suitland turned slightly and looked Frank straight in the eyes, causing the other man to flinch slightly under the steady gaze. "Frank, for some reason beyond my comprehension, you seem to have it in your thick skull that what you did was unforgivable. But it is human nature to seek out companionship. It is also quite normal to gravitate towards the familiar. Nor is it necessarily wrong that you made certain assumptions about Mike. Yes, the end result was regrettable and I am not saying you bear no responsibility for his death, but it was not solely your doing. Mike played his own part in it, as did the actual shooter. Quit beating yourself up over it. Until you forgive yourself, you cannot let yourself be forgiven by anyone else. Least of all this bozo" Dr. Suitland flicked a wrist in Joe's direction with a smirk.

"As for _you_ Mister" now he turned the full force of his gaze on the younger sibling. "Quit trying to fix everything. Some things must be dealt with alone.. as you are well aware. Or have you forgotten all our sessions from last year?" Joe blushed under the scrutiny and he shook his head sheepishly. "Your brother is allowed a secret or three. It's not a personal insult if he wants to keep some things to himself. Nor is he incapable of working through his issues without your sticking your nose in it. It's terribly decent of you to want to help, but don't assume a lack of trust or faith if he wants to keep a few things private." Dr Suitland stood, knees creaking. "Now if you will excuse me, I do have other people who need me a helluva lot more than you do. I trust that you will have your little conversation? Feel free to use my office as long as necessary, Mary will tell me when you leave and I can reclaim my domain. Until then, I will move my appointments to another locale."

"We can go.." Frank hastily asserted.

"Oh no you don't." the Psychologist retorted. "I am not so deluded as to think if I let you walk out of this office now that you will not find some way to dance around the subject. If I let you two go now, you will never resolve this. Talk to each other." He growled, then softened his expression into a small smile. "You _both_ need this. I can't help either of you any more. The only one who can do that.. is you." He shook each man's hand firmly before grabbing his suit jacket off the coat rack by the door. He paused after opening the door. "And don't think I won't know if you fake it. Mary will be under orders to leave you alone unless she hears things being broken. Please try not to destroy too much. I am rather fond of my lamp. It's an actual Tiffany, not a reproduction." with a final smile, Dr Suitland left, closing the door behind him.

"Apparently the good doctor knows us too well" Joe quipped with a wan smile. He stood and walked over to the window, which looked out over a small park complete with duck pond. He stood there, watching the mallards swim placidly along when he felt Frank come up next to him. Neither man spoke but Frank tentatively put his hands on Joe's shoulders and gave a slight squeeze. Joe responded by reaching up and grasping Frank's left hand and returned the squeeze. "I have a confession to make" he said quietly.

"Um, you already know all the facts and you were just being a brat trying to make me talk?" Frank responded in a wry tone of voice.

"No. Yes. Sort of. But that's not what I meant." Joe turned around and faced his brother. "You weren't the only one to get a new best friend, you know." Joe sighed deeply as he edged his way around Frank and sat back down. "His name is Geoff Haynes. He's a few years older than you and he was my LPO on the ship. And while he doesn't exactly look like you, he reminded me a lot of you from the first time I met him. Total nerd through and through. Had a better computer for his personal use than the department had to troubleshoot the engines. I sort of glommed on to him when I first arrived and he didn't toss me overboard. I learned a lot from him, just like I learned a lot from you. And yeah, I look up to the guy. Just like you." Joe paused, looking up at his brother who had been standing over him. "Did you really think I would resent that you did the same thing I did? Hell if anything I would have congratulated you on choosing my evil twin!."

Frank half smiled at this, in spite of himself, and replied "Yeah pretty sure you would have been the evil twin, actually." He sighed. "I guess I don't know what I thought. I felt guilty I suppose."

"Yeah, well you have always been a little too hard on yourself." Joe earnestly faced his brother. "Look, all I wanted was to get back what we had before I left. The easy camaraderie, the ability to talk to you about anything and everything. I know I share the blame on us drifting apart. But I didn't know how to make it better. And every time I tried, you shut me down. So I began to think you didn't want the good ole days. And that bothered me, more than I care to admit." Joe finally lapsed into silence, out of words.

Frank was beginning to see where it had all gone wrong. "So how do we get back the good ole days?"

"I dunno. What I _want _ is for you to tell me all about Mike and why he made such an impression on you, aside from his stunning good looks." Joe grinned but it was a shadow of his usual smirk. "But" he sighed dramatically "Dr S has a point and I wanna respect that you may not want to regale me with tales of daring do and adventure. All I can do is assure you I won't be jealous of him or any thing you guys had together. I do not now nor ever will hate you for finding him, or any other new friends you have made. I'm not like that, and to be honest, I am a little hurt that you could ever think I would be."

Frank remained quiet, contemplating his next words. He had made so many miscalculations he was afraid to do anything that would exacerbate the situation. Joe had said, in so many words, that his initial reluctance was unfounded. In his own way, Frank knew he was just as stubborn as any other Hardy male. "Maybe I over reacted, just a tad."

"Ya think?" the exasperation was evident in Joe's tone of voice. Both men chuckled then.

"Okay, fine." Frank admitted defeat. "What do you want to know?"

"Well for starters, what was he like, really?"

"Look in the mirror. He was so much like you I was in shock, to be honest. Ignore the Midwestern drawl and it was easy to shut my eyes and imagine it was you in the room. Same stupid grin, same cheesy sense of humor. Same disgustingly upbeat demeanor."

"I like him already." Joe grinned.

"Yeah. So did I. And that's when it all began to go to hell in a hand basket." Finally freed of his burden, Frank began to talk. In fact once he started, it was hard to stop and Joe, to his credit, just sat there and listened. He listened while Frank talked about how hard it had been for him to suddenly find himself without his partner and best friend, and how he grabbed the first opportunity he had to get that feeling back and how his desire to maintain that illusion ultimately led to some serious miscalculations and assumptions on his part, which resulted in the death of a young man who did not deserve to die. By the time he was finished, Joe had long since sat down next to him and put a strong but gentle arm around Frank's shoulders and pulled him in against his own.

"I had no idea it was that hard. I guess I made some assumptions of my own."

"Such as?" Frank's voice was muffled against Joe's shirt.

"Well, for starters, I never had that problem.. I was so busy at Boot camp then A school and then trying to not get lost on my big grey ugly thing that I didn't have time to really miss you." Frank leaned back and gave Joe a raised eyebrow. He hastily tried to clarify. " Well of course I _missed_ you, but I didn't have time to dwell on it much."

Frank replied. "And I guess I never realized how much I depended on you to make my life..well.. worthy." At that, Joe's eyebrow was the one that raised.

"Now that is just crazy talk." Joe was astonished. "And I sure as hell don't need that responsibility anyway" he laughed.

"Okay so we both are idiots. Feel better now?"

"A little bit." Joe stood and stretched, wincing a little when he twisted his back. " I just wish all this had happened a little sooner, is all. Might not have have given up so easily."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Frank asked, intrigued and a little concerned at the implications of his younger brother's statement.

Joe contemplated not telling Frank the truth, or at least not the full truth. But then he remembered Dr. Suitland's final words before running off, and he decided that being noble was overrated. "It means that I wasn't sure you cared enough to come find me when the Mazzola Boys were having their fun. At first it was no big deal I just figured Dad would call out the Cavalry instead. But when I found out about his heart attack..." Joe's voice trembled as he continued. " I figured I was a dead man. I stopped holding on." It was tough to admit that to his his brother, but there was no regret. It was what it was and there was no point in pretending otherwise.

"Oh, Joe!" Frank started before being cut off.

"It's done, okay. Not your problem I thought the way I did. Anyway it all worked out in the end. But I will admit to not liking myself very much for doubting you, no matter what was going on between us." Joe grew very serious then, even more than he had been over the last several hours. "But if I cannot be certain you have my back, I can't do this any more. I can't be a PI. There will never be another person I can trust as much as I trust you.. but lately, that trust has been...not so much broken as..bent. So I need to know, Frank.. Are We Good?" Sapphire blue eyes, normally full of repressed mirth, were now deeply solemn. Joe waited, not really sure he was ready to hear a negative answer if that's what was coming.

Frank stood there, so still that Joe was certain he had stopped breathing. "Little Brother..." words failed him, so instead he just grabbed his sibling in a bear hug. Joe hissed in pain at the contact but refused to let Frank drop his arms; tightening his own around Frank's back to keep the embrace intact. "You never need to worry about that again. I will always have your back, no matter how pissed off I am at you." Frank squeezed even tighter to emphasize the point. "Your drive me crazy sometimes, but that's your most endearing feature. I never want to lose you."

Both men gave up any pretense at manliness at this point and gave in to their emotions. They cried until the hiccups came fast and furious, which got them both laughing rather hysterically. They had finally calmed down enough to just sit and talk about little things when they were interrupted by a discreet "Ahem" from the doorway. Mary stood there, in her coat and with her purse slung over her shoulder.

"Are you boys about done? I'd like to lock up and get home to my own sons if you don't mind." she smiled but the tone was just ever so slightly disapproving.

Both men jumped to their feet, astonished at the time. It was nearly 530. They had been ensconced in the office for over 3 hours. Apologizing profusely they quickly scrambled out of the office after promising to stop by the next day during normal hours and give their report to Dr. Suitland. Mary sniffed reprovingly, causing both boys to instantly have a vision of their Aunt Gertrude in one of her snit fits over something. They looked at each other, and immediately knew they were thinking the same thing. They both grinned widely and burst into laughter as they left, which made Mary even more indignant. They heard her muttering behind them as they walked down the hall and that just set them off even more. Wordlessly they headed towards the stairwell, allowing the receptionist the dignity of an empty elevator ride.

Once outside, they stood by Joe's SUV a few minutes discussing their next move. "We really need to tell Dad he's off the hook." Joe said. "Think we owe him big time." he continued.

"I am sure we can come up with something to show our repentance." Frank replied. "He has mentioned in passing that the house needs painting.. and with him needing to take it easy for a while I am quite sure he'll let us work off our debt."

"Ugh. Fine, on one condition. ANY color but grey." Joe shuddered, the memory of having to slap paint on the hull one hot and humid Japanese summer still haunted him. " And only if Mom keeps us well supplied with lemonade and food."

"I think I'll let you handle that. You are much better at wheedling than I ever could hope to aspire to be." Frank ducked the friendly swing at his head with a grin.

"So, see you at the 'rents for breakfast? I'll call Mom and warn her. 9 ish okay?" Joe asked.

"Sure. See ya then." Frank started to walk away, then stopped and turned around, grabbing Joe once again in a bear hug. "I don't deserve you, you know that?" Joe ignored the raw emotion in Frank's voice and only nodded, not trusting his own voice to be steady either. They broke apart and Frank turned the corner and got into his car and drove off into the dusk.

Joe stopped by the grocery store on his way back to the apartment but was quickly on his way up the stairs and into his cozy residence. He threw a chicken breast on the George Foreman grill and emptied one of those pre bagged salad kits into a large bowl before slicing up the chicken and tossing it on top of the greens. He plopped down in front of the TV, kicked off his shoes and flipped through the channels for a while before calling his parents' house. Fenton answered the phone. "Hey, Dad. What's up?" Joe said into the receiver, sounding more cheerful to his father than he had in weeks.

"I am bored. So bored. You have no idea how bored. Your mother won't let me do a damn thing. And she's locked my office and hidden the key!" Fenton was indignant and exasperated and Joe couldn't help but laugh at his father's annoyed tone.

"Tell ya what, why don't your two favorite children stop by tomorrow say around 9 and relieve you of the tedium? I just happen to have picked up a very large container of orange juice, extra pulpy, that I cannot possibly hope to drink by myself in a timely fashion." Joe grinned , knowing his father was partial to orange juice with substance, as he had called it while the boys were growing up, but Laura was not, so never bought it once they had moved out. "and if you could perhaps mention a particular craving for say... waffles, I'd be extra willing to share." Fenton heartily agreed to that plan and asked what the special occasion was.

"Frank told me everything, Dad. And yes he's still alive.. and undamaged." Joe smirked. "We're gonna be okay."

Fenton heaved a large sigh of relief, and a tension he never realized was there was released. The situation between his two sons had been weighing on him heavily but he had been in no position to offer any sort of real advice or support due to his own convalescence. "I'm glad to hear that Son. I don't mind telling you I was pretty worried."

"Makes two of us, Pop. But we had our little heart to heart and while thing's ain't perfect, they're a helluva lot better than they were 3 days ago. We'll tell you all about it in person tomorrow." He chatted a few more minutes, saying a quick hello to his mother who came on the line before hanging up. Joe ambled into the bathroom and took a long hot shower before getting dressed for bed. For the first time in weeks, his sleep was peaceful and uninterrupted by bad dreams.

**A/n: ** _Just a chapter or 2 left to tidy up. Then I am stepping back for a bit. _ H_ave the cruise at the end of the month so nothing new until after Memorial Day. and It's gonna be a much less angsty tale but with some old familiar faces. _


	18. Chapter 18

**A/n: **_Last chapter before the epilogue folks!_

**Chapter Seventeen**

"You missed a spot." The sudden unexpected voice caused Joe to lose his footing on the ladder and he fell hard on his back, landing with a thud. Before he had time to catch his breath, the thankfully nearly empty tray of cheery blue paint landed with a wet smack on his chest. As he lay there trying to decide if he had broken anything, he heard a smothered laugh from just behind his head. "Blue is definitely your color, Hardy."

Blinking slowly, Joe raised his head in increments, noting a few fresh aches and pains but thankfully nothing appeared broken. The bright afternoon sun was blocked by the looming shadow of a familiar face crouched over him. "Hooper you SOB. Yer just lucky I was on the short ladder. You scared the crap out of me." He shoved the paint tray off to the side and held out an arm. Biff grabbed it and hauled his disheveled and paint spattered friend up into a standing position, keeping a firm grip on the arm until Joe was steady on his feet.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist. You looked so intent I just had to say something. You okay?"

"Yeah, I guess" he grumbled not really angry. "Shirt's ruined though. Which is no big deal as I fully expected to toss it when I was done anyway." Joe gingerly took a few steps to make sure he really wasn't hurt and led Biff around into the back yard. "So what brings you here, besides trying to kill me?"

"Actually I came to ask you a favor. Stopped by the office but Frank said you were here. So what gives?"

"Painting the house for Dad. Or, to be completely accurate.. for Mom who doesn't want Dad on a ladder. They were going to hire somebody, but we decided that we could handle it. We trade off days, so that there is always somebody in the office."

"How long have you been at it?" Biff asked as he held the back kitchen door open and let Joe precede him inside.

" 'Bout what, maybe three weeks? We don't get to paint every day between weather and work so it's taking a while. Got the main stuff done though, after a few days Frank went out and rented a sprayer. He _claimed_ it was more efficient. I say he just got lazy. Now all that's left is the trim" Joe grinned as he stepped inside, only to be herded right back out by his mother.

"Good Lord what happened to you? You are a mess! Don't you dare come inside and drip all over my freshly washed kitchen floor young man!" Laura scolded.

"Sorry, Missus H. That's my fault. I startled him and he fell off the ladder." Biff said sheepishly.

"Oh goodness, Joseph are you hurt?" From angry to concerned in zero point three seconds. Even Joe was impressed as he shrugged off her concern.

"I'm fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me is all. I would like to take a shower though before it dries in my hair, if you don't mind." this was accompanied by a mock glare at his best friend. Laura, however, insisted that he remain outside and made him take off the tee shirt, shoes and socks. She also tried to get him to divest himself of his jeans but Joe drew the line at that. "I promise I won't bump up against anything between here and the bathroom. But I am _not_ going to let the neighbors see my skivvies!"

When he came back downstairs about thirty minutes later, he found both his parents sitting on the back deck chatting with Biff. Everyone had tall frosty glasses of lemonade and there was a bowl of fresh salsa and chips on the low table between them. "So, Mr Hooper, I understand you had a favor to ask of me?"

"Yeah, I was just telling your parents. You know the Youth center that just opened up downtown for at risk kids?" Biff asked.

"I vaguely recall hearing about it. Why?"

"I've been asked to put together a few teams..basketball, football, maybe baseball or soccer if there is interest. Strictly intramural type stuff. I could use an Assistant Coach. Pay is, well.. nonexistent. Strictly volunteer but it's a great cause. Whaddya say?" Biff finished hopefully.

Joe leaned forward, grabbing a few tortilla chips and dunking them in the salsa before leaning back and popping them in his mouth. He took the time to chew before answering. "Sounds like fun, as long as it won't interfere with the office."

"You'll find I am a very flexible Boss. I appreciate this Joe, really." Biff grinned. Joe hadn't seen him this excited since they made the State Finals their Junior year. They spent another hour or so just chatting before Biff thanked Joe one last time and headed out.

Fenton was looking a lot better recently. Joe noticed it more probably because he wasn't at the house as frequently as his brother had been these last few weeks. He had been spending a great deal of time tackling leads from the Frisk kidnapping and follow ups from the other cases he had been given in DC. Fenton still complained about being bored although 2 weeks ago he had successfully ferreted out the location of his hidden office door key. Joe had caught him in the office one afternoon as he was painting right outside the window. Fenton had swore his son to secrecy, but admitted that he rarely actually did anything more strenuous than paperwork. And only while Laura was not home, which in recent weeks was not that often. She seemed to prefer staying close to her husband, being just a little more apt to anticipate his needs. Joe privately thought that the heart attack terrified her more than she was willing to admit. Equally privately, he concurred. He had Frank had been slightly at odds over the subject. Joe was of the opinion that their Father needed to retire or at the very least semi retire. Frank insisted that he was going to be fine and would be back in the saddle working cases any day now.

It was the one thing in their budding relationship rebuild that remained a sore subject. While they never quite got into an argument, the conversations were definitely less than cordial. By tacit agreement, however neither broached the subject with their parents.

The afternoon passed quietly. Laura had returned inside to finish cleaning and began dinner prep, while Fenton amused himself with the daily crossword. Joe had decided that a nap would not be remiss so he was soon snoring quietly in the hammock under the 2 great oak trees, which was where Frank found him 2 hours later when he came around the back. Fenton saw him and was about to speak when Frank grinned evilly and placed a finger to his lips indicating he wanted silence. Fenton took about half a second to suss out Frank's intent, then returned the grin and surreptitiously went inside.

Frank snuck closer to the hammock and unceremoniously tipped it over, dumping his younger sibling onto the ground for the second time that afternoon. Joe woke, sputtering his indignation. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"Care to explain why there is a large bright blue splatter of paint all over the front of the house as well as why you are back here asleep on the job?" Frank's voice was stern but his eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth.

"It's all Biff's fault I will have you know." Joe contemplated crossing his arms and pouting but opted to instead assume an air of dignified indifference. Frank barked a laugh of pure disbelief. "Riiiight. Tell me another one, Bro."

So Joe explained what had happened earlier but it wasn't until both parents corroborated that he accepted the story. Frank couldn't resist teasing his brother about making such a mess although he did offer to repaint the bits that had been spattered with blue before dinner.

So Joe found himself again on the ladder finishing up the trim while Frank was next to him repainting the soft yellow their mother had chosen for the walls. They had just finished putting everything away in the garage when Fenton poked his head out the door and called them in to eat.

Dinner was, of course, scrumptious. Laura had somehow managed to find the time to make a roast with all the trimmings including homemade gravy, garlic mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli with cheese sauce. All three men tucked in eagerly and before long there was nothing left but scraps. Leftovers were never a problem when both her sons came to dinner. Dessert was strawberry shortcake. Even Joe proclaimed himself stuffed to the gills at the conclusion. The menfolk retired to the living room with coffee after being shooed out of the kitchen by Laura who refused their offer to help clean up.

Fenton stretched out his legs in front of him with a contented sigh and spoke. "Boy's, I have something I'd like to discuss with you two."

"What's up, Dad?" Frank asked.

"I have been thinking a lot these last weeks. Mostly because I haven't been allowed to do anything else..." he chuckled before sobering. "It's time I stepped back a little."

"Meaning what?" Frank again.

"Meaning, I have decided to quit field work completely."

"Dad, don't be silly, you're fine! The doctors have said so!" Frank leaned forward earnestly. Joe was silent but he sighed a little in relief.

"I got lucky, Frank. And we all know it. If you weren't there, well...we wouldn't be having this conversation." Fenton's eyes were grave. "Your mother hasn't said as much, but I know she wants me to retire. And while I am not quite ready to trade in my gumshoes for golf shoes, I think she has a point. She's been the most supportive wife a man could ever ask for. It's time I repaid her a little by being around more." H estopped and took a sip of coffee. "I have already discussed it with Sam. He's fully in agreement and rather jealous I thought." Both boys smiled at this observation.

Joe spoke for the first time. "So where does that leave the office? Can we handle having only 3 field agents?"

"I think so , yes. I can be in the office full time to handle paperwork, phones and screening clients. The three of you are more than capable of handling the rest. If it gets to be too much, you can always hire somebody. In fact I think you need to start looking anyway. Sam's as old as I am and distinctly greyer. I am sure he will want to slow down as well in the coming months. Time to let the next generation take over."

"Are we ready?" Frank was dubious.

"As long as you two continue to work on regaining the trust you lost in each other, then yes you will be fine. And both if us will still be around to offer sage advise. And to tell you when you are doing it wrong." Fenton smiled placidly.

"Well I think it's about time, myself. No offense, Dad, but I kinda like having you around. If less stress means less chance of a third strike by heart attack, I am all for it." Joe spoke up, inwardly pleased by the revelation. "Besides, Frank has been handling the boring stuff too much already. He's turning into a pale cadaverous figure. He needs the fresh air and sunshine. And I need a Stakeout Buddy tomorrow night." At that comment, Frank lightly punched his brother in the arm.

Frank was reluctant, Joe excited at the prospect of taking over the management of Hardy and Sons Investigations. The rest of the evening was spent in the sort of business talk that bored Joe to tears but he made a concerted effort to pay attention, knowing that it was time to grow up and learn to deal with the boring crap. By the end of the night both Frank and Joe had a better understanding of the business part of the family business and had quietly snuck out of the after Laura enthusiastically threw herself into Fenton's arms at the news and kissed him so long and thoroughly that their children were grossed out. Some things you just don't want to know about your parents...

True to his word, Fenton stuck to the plan. After being released to return to work by the doctor he pulled a regular 9-5 shift M-F. Sam started spending more time with each brother, honing their skills and before long started cutting back on his own hours a little bit. As a result they had fewer open cases going at once, but business was nevertheless still brisk. The Name brought people in and once they saw that Fenton was still an active participant and that his sons were trained by him, they signed their checks happily.

Weeks, then months passed by mostly uneventfully. The brothers continued to see Dr. Suitland although much less often than before and usually as a pair. Eventually even he said they no longer needed his guidance and shooed them out of his office one last time.

One evening, about 6 months later, Joe popped his head into Frank's office which had once been their father's. "I am about to head out to the bank to pick up those papers that our latest client had the foresight to stash in a safe deposit box before his house got ransacked. I have the POA right here" patting his breast pocket. "Who woulda thought that Industrial espionage was such a violent business?" he grinned.

Frank looked up from the spreadsheet he had been wrestling with unsuccessfully. "Good. Bring back lunch. I don't have time to take a break. One of Prito's calzones would be perfect. Extra marinara. And a diet soda."

"Like you need to lose weight."

" I like the taste better. So Nyah. Now git. It will take at least an hour to get to the bank and back and I could waste away in the meantime, seeing as I am so skinny and all. I need my nourishment."

Joe laughed and went out the door whistling merrily. Today was shaping up to be a beautiful day.

**A/n: **_Thanks everyone for sticking with me through this adventure. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It was definitely a departure form my usual stuff. The epilogue is going to set up the next story although you are going to be waiting a while before it gets posted. _


	19. Chapter 19

**A/n: **_the end and a bit of a tease.. But you will have to content yourself with it for a while.. no new posts from me for a few weeks. Luckily others have started new stories for you all to tide you over. I'd like to once again thank all those who faithfully read and reviewed and enjoyed._

****Epilogue****

_Frank's concentration was disturbed by the sudden rumbling of his gut. He was startled to see that it was almost three hours since Joe had left for the bank. "Where the hell is he? It does not take that long to get lunch." he thought to himself as he reached towards the phone and dialed Mr Pizza. Upon hearing from Tony that Joe had not stopped by or even called in an order, Frank thanked his longtime friend and hung up in order to dial Joe's cell directly. Irritatingly, the phone went directly to voicemail. Frank swore mildly and threw his own cell on the desk, where it skittered off the edge and onto the floor beneath. This time the swearing was less mild as Frank laboriously pushed himself out of the chair and got down on his knees to crawl underneath the desk to retrieve his phone. _

_By the time he had recovered it, his knees were sore and his stomach was being more insistent. He thought he'd try one more time to get through. This time the other end did get picked up, but Joe never said a word. _

"_Joe? What on earth is keeping you? I'm dying over here! My stomach is doing an uncanny impersonation of Audrey 2" Frank was a little exasperated and beginning to get irritated as well._

_Joe's response was so low pitched that Frank had to strain to hear it. "I'm a little busy right now. Can't talk, gotta call 'em back."_

"_What the hell does that mean? Call who?" the only response was silence, followed by the sound of Joe's phone dropping. Frank heard his brother swear, followed by low murmuring that he couldn't make out. The last thing Frank heard well enough to understand chilled his blood. It was a single gunshot and it was followed by a woman's high pitched scream. Then the phone went dead._

"_Joe? JOE?" Frank screamed into the phone. He frantically pushed redial but to no avail. The phone stubbornly went to voice mail again and again. "Dammit Little Brother what the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?"_

__**A/n: **_Frank always assumes the worst, doesn't he? I will say this, the next one will be far less emotional. a bit of excitement, a bit of humor and a bit of old familiar faces. and a few new ones. I promise to not keep you waiting too long into June before I start posting chapters, but for now, this one has ended._


End file.
